Sometimes It Takes a Dream to Wake You Up

8. Trepidations

The meal looked wonderful but it all tasted like cabbage. Still, all three diners made an effort to eat as well as carry on pleasant dinner conversation. Both Harry and Hermione were being rather obvious about not looking at each other. Harry was not looking at Hermione because she was now far enough away that looking at her face would also allow him to easily look lower and probably get caught doing so. Hermione was not looking at Harry because she didn't want to encourage what she feared might be going on with his feelings towards her. When both teens had their heads down in their plates, Mrs. Figg had to exert great effort not to burst out laughing. The Slytherin in her allowed her to easily wipe the mirth away and replace it with polite coolness when either of her dining companions addressed her. She was enjoying the show immensely. They were, after all, Gryffindors.

After the meal was done, Mrs. Figginsisted that they remain at the table for some after dinner beverages. She claimed it was a dining tradition in her family but the truth was she was enjoying herself too much to let the spectacle end so soon. She cleared the dishes which left Harry and Hermione in a bit of a bind because they could no longer stare at their plates instead of each other. They both decided to watch what Mrs. Figg was doing and Hermione even offered to help but was denied by their hostess.

Mrs. Figg had some sympathy and returned relatively quickly with a huge tray of bottles of varying size and color. Harry looked at the selection and was surprised to see bottles of various muggle and wizard spirits and wines as well as butterbeer. He looked at Mrs. Figgwith a curious expression and she smiled back at him.

"Pick whatever you like dear. Nothing here is terribly strong and we'll only have one or two."

Harry almost tried some of Merlin's Own Mead but grabbed a butterbeer instead. He missed the flavorful beverage and hoped it was strong enough to be tasted through the Mists. Hermione also grabbed one and began to talk about her recent trip.

Harry took his first sip and smiled. It was as wonderful as he remembered. He closed his eyes and continued to nurse the cold bottle as Hermione droned on about Belgium, Switzerland, Spain, and Portugal. No doubt Mrs. Figg was bored silly but listening to Hermione go on and on and on some more about her travels had a strangely calming effect on Harry. It was like he was back at school or better still in Hogsmead at the Three Broomsticks with her and Ron by his side. Hermione was, of course, being Hermione and going into every last detail of the things she'd seen and done on holiday.

As Harry finished his second butterbeer, relaxing to the sound of Hermione's voice, he risked another look at her. Amazingly, she was simply his best friend again. Not a chest or a bum to be ogled. She was "just Hermione." A grin of pure joy broke out on his face as a spell seemed to be broken. Yes, she had changed in the past few months, darker skin with just a hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose, slightly more filled out in a womanly way but not nearly so much as it had seemed after the shock of her revealing arrival. He had now had a chance to calm down, to get used to her again, and remember exactly who this girl was and what she really meant to him. She was his friend and only that.

He snorted into his empty bottle, 'Ron is still a goner though.'

"Did you say something dear?"

"No, ma'am. Does anyone mind if I take the last butterbeer?"

"There's more in the icebox so go right ahead."

Hermione backed up from the table and stood, "Well, I'm exhausted. I think I'll go to bed."

She hesitated for a moment but then walked to Harry and bent over to give him a hug, "G'night, Harry. See you in the morning."

Harry embraced her and felt none of the discomfort he had earlier, the happiness was evident on his face, "Good night, Hermione. Pleasant dreams."

Hermione gave him a weak smile and her eyes seemed to moisten at the expression of joy on Harry's face, 'Please, Harry. Not me.'

She turned to the old witch who was quietly sipping her fire whiskey, "Mrs. Figg, thank you for having me."

"Not at all dear. Your room is the second on the right from the top of the stairs."

Hermione turned and left as Harry grabbed the last bottle of butterbeer.

"She's a pretty girl."

"Yes, she is," Harry responded matter-of-factly.

"And you're very sure she's not "your Hermione"."

Harry smiled and looked directly into Mrs. Figg's eyes to carry the point, "Very sure."

"Seems a shame though, pretty girl like that."

"Well then, here's hoping Ron stops being a git." Harry gestured with his bottle to the door, "And her too I suppose."

"Ah, I see. It seemed during dinner that..."

"Well, it just took me a while to get used to her again. She has changed since I last saw her. I'm alright now."

Mrs. Figg prodded on, "I imagine her entrance from the floo was ... thought-provoking."

Harry shrugged. He knew she was engaging in that favorite hobby of hers again and was determined not to be baited.

"I also imagine tomorrow's arrivals will be equally stimulating if things are as you say with Ron and Hermione. And what about Ron's little sister, Ginny is it?"

"What about her?" he answered quickly.

A little too quickly. Mrs. Figg's eyes flashed with triumph and delight.

"Will you and she have to spend time together if the other two manage to stop being gits?"

Harry shifted in his seat, "I suppose."

"And how do you feel about having to keep the young one occupied while the other two are off together?"

"It's not like she's a child, not even a year younger than me! Ginny's an incredible person! We'll have a fantastic time together!"

"I'm sure," she smirked into her drink. "Good night, Harry."

'Damn, she got me again.'

*

They had warned her it would be a rougher journey than usual. The floo connection had been accelerated to make it more difficult to track who was going where even though tracking such things was difficult to begin with. Ginny noticed that she wasn't passing many gratings as she had been so she guessed she was entering into a muggle area where gratings would be fewer which meant she was getting closer to her destination and Harry. Her stomach tightened on an already nauseous feeling. She was terrified of finally seeing Harry after all the mail they'd exchanged. Yes, it was wonderful at the time but now, now she was going to have to deal with him in person. Would they pick up where the last letter had left off? Would she be able to string two syllables together while trying to have a one on one conversation? Had he forgotten how plain looking she was and would he be disappointed when he saw her? Would he at least like her hair this long? She was taller now anyway, guys liked tall girls, right?

In the distance she saw her path center on one grating and she guessed her floo was almost over. She tumbled out of the fireplace and careened right into Harry and they both tumbled to the floor. She blushed furiously and stammered an apology but he laughed it off. As he helped her to her feet there seemed to be something very wrong. Was he standing up? Yes, he was. Was she standing on something? No, she wasn't. Oh no! She was almost a whole foot taller than he. She had grown quite a bit this summer and he had not. He may have actually shrunk. This wasn't going to work. They couldn't be together like this.

Ginny's eyes popped open for the forth time that night. She was back in her room in her bed and getting absolutely no sleep. In the first dream, her correspondence with Harry had all been a joke played on her by Malfoy and he had plastered copies of her letters all over Hogwarts so that everyone could laugh at her for believing Harry actually liked her. In the second, she had arrived at the Figgwoman's house to find a note from Harry that he'd gone to visit Cho and that she should try to have fun there without him. In the third, she'd actually managed to kiss him only for it to be completely awful for both of them and they decided to never do it again. She groaned and turned over in her bed, pulling the pillow around her ears. She and Ron weren't leaving until tomorrow afternoon. Maybe she would be able to manage a couple hours of sleep before then.

*

Hermione was leaning against the headboard of the bed reading her O.W.L. workbook. Someone cleared their throat from the door of the room. She looked over to see Ron leaning against the jamb, smiling.

"Ron, you're early. I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

Ron shrugged and said nothing. He pushed off the doorway and walked over to the bed. He brushed the covers down before sitting near her feet. She pulled her legs in closer to her body to increase the space between her toes and his thigh. Ron scooted closer to her to take the space back away from her.

"Ron, what are doing? I'm not going to take any of your foolishness you know!"

Ron still said nothing. He stared at her and smiled. After a time, he slid off the bed and moved to stand next to her while she remained on the bed. He reached his hand up and began to run his index finger along her jaw line. Hermione looked up at the tall boy as he studied her mouth and traced the contours of her face with his finger.

"Ron, what are-" But Ron moved the finger from her face to his lips in a sign for her to be quiet and, miraculously, she obeyed. He moved that same finger to her lips and started to rub them lightly. She closed her eyes, savoring his touch. Then the finger was gone. There was a slight breeze of hot breath on her chin before she felt his lips press to hers. They gracefully rolled over onto the bed so that he was on top of her, his hands in her hair, her hands kneading the quivering muscles of his back.

"Oh Ron!" she moaned into his mouth.

"Who?!"

She opened her eyes and Harry was looking down on her, his face full of hurt.

Hermione opened her eyes again and she was alone in the bed in the middle of the night wondering what the Hell she was going to do about the triangle she now seemed to be in.

*

Ron motioned for Hermione to sit on the small bench in Mrs. Figg's greenhouse, "Hermione, I'm sorry about the letters I sent you. I really didn't think when I was writing them and was thinking even less when I posted them."

"They really were unfair Ron," she sat as he instructed but avoided looking at him.

"I know. I've got no right to tell you who you can and can't visit. I was ... I was jealous," he picked at a thorn on a bush of pink roses.

"Jealous? Of what?" she had turned to face him with that admission.

"Of Krum, of course. He's got everything, money, fame, a quidditch career, but mostly I was jealous because he's got you."

She reached to grab his left hand with both of hers, "But he doesn't have me, Ron. I never went to Bulgaria. Victor is a very nice person, but he and I will never be more than friends."

"Didn't go? But you said you did. Why?" he looked down at her confused.

"I'm sorry but you just made me so mad with those letters. I wanted to teach you a lesson but I didn't really care to go all the way to Bulgariato do it."

"So you lied?" there was no anger in his voice.

"Yes," she answered in a quiet voice.

"You, Hermione Granger, lied," he said again as if some law of nature had been broken, but then they had become friends in the first place partly because she had lied about the troll business at Hogwarts.

"Yes," she answered in a quiet, guilty voice.

"That's so brilliant!" he shouted happily.

"You're not mad?!"

"I'm too bloody happy to be mad."

She shook a finger at him, "Ron, don't swear."

"I am sorry, Hermione. About the letters I mean, not the swearing, but I'll try to do better with that as well, if you'll consider forgiving me for the other."

She stood up and held out her hand for a shake, "It's alright Ron. I want to be friends again too. I'm sorry for lying to you."

"We were never not friends." He accepted her handshake but it didn't seem enough.

They moved together somewhat awkwardly for a hug. Ron's nose was in her hair, it smelled of cinnamon. Hermione's face was snuggled into his chest. He pulled her closer and tighter. She began to back away. He feared he'd made her uncomfortable with his firm embrace but she stopped and looked up at him. She licked her lips and their shiny wetness was simply too inviting. Ron bent down and kissed her lightly before he opened his eyes and smiled into the darkness of his room. He really did enjoy the more explicit dreams about her, especially the ones where she used food so imaginatively, but the ones where they just kissed seemed so much more real. The smile faded quickly with the thought that he would never really kiss her. He would never be anywhere near that close to kissing her, but he would not let the tears come this time. He would see her tomorrow (or was it later today?) and he needed to start being strong. His set his jaw in determination, he would be her friend if that was all he could have from her, if it was the only way to be near her.

*

The bath was warm and fragrant. Tiny jasmine scented bubbles sizzled quietly on the sides of the tub. Harry lay back with his eyes closed, smiling dreamily.

"Hey, wake up! Come on, you promised!"

Harry opened his eyes and saw Ginny looking back at him over her bare shoulders. Her long, red hair was pinned up with a few free wisps floating about and the creamy skin of her back was obscured here and there by blobs of bubbles.

"I guess I did. So what's this then?" he pulled a large brush from under the bubbles.

"It's an exfoliation brush."

"And we need this why?" he looked at it suspiciously while turning it in his grip.

"To help keep my skin soft and silky."

"Ah, well anything for the cause. Just scrub then?"

"Mmmm, you scrub my back and I'll ..."

"Yes?"

"Return the favor somehow."

"I'll make a list."

"The water isn't getting any warmer you know."

"Yes mistress, I'm your most obedient eunuch." Harry started scrubbing methodically with the brush.

"I rather like the "mistress" part but don't much care for the other."

"Hey! You just mind your hands!"

"Just checking. No eunuchs around here."

Harry continued scrubbing for several minutes and then decided he'd had enough. He tossed the brush end over end in a high arch over the side of the tub and pulled Ginny backwards so that he was lying back against the tub wall and Ginny lying against him. He nuzzled her ear as his hands ran lazily over her arms and belly and breasts. She sighed heavily and began stroking lazy circles on his thighs with her fingers.

"I am so in love with you, Ginny."

Harry awoke and fell out of bed in the early morning light, "I am?!"