Chapter Text
By Friday afternoon, Hogwarts had escalated from interested to completely unbearable.
Hermione realized this the moment she walked into Charms and found someone had drawn a tiny lion and badger holding hands in the corner of the blackboard.
Underneath it, in elegant blue ink, someone had written:
INTER-HOUSE UNITY
And beneath that:
Potter finally stopped staring and did something about it.
Hermione stopped walking.
Very.
Slowly.
“You’re twitching,” Parvati observed helpfully beside her.
“I’m going to kill people.”
“Fair.”
Dean Thomas leaned over from the next desk.
“In their defense,” he said honestly, “the sexual tension was becoming educationally disruptive.”
Hermione closed her eyes briefly.
“I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t,” Parvati replied immediately. “You’re glowing.”
“I am not glowing.”
“You smiled at your toast this morning.”
“That was unrelated.”
Parvati made exaggerated quotation marks in the air.
“You keep using ‘unrelated’ the way people use denial.”
Hermione pointed threateningly at her.
Parvati looked delighted instead of intimidated.
Which, Hermione reflected bitterly, was the problem with befriending reckless people.
Unfortunately, reckless people apparently traveled in packs now.
Because Harry Potter entered the classroom three seconds later looking unfairly attractive and entirely too relaxed for someone currently dismantling Hermione’s emotional stability.
His Hufflepuff tie was loose.
Again.
Honestly, at this point Hermione was convinced he did it deliberately.
The top two buttons of his shirt were undone with reckless indifference.
Which Hermione absolutely did not stare at.
She was academically stimulated.
Entirely different.
There had to be science behind someone radiating that much heat simply by loosening a tie and rolling up their sleeves. Perhaps some undiscovered magical phenomenon. An advanced branch of Charms. A biological anomaly.
Research purposes.
Strictly.
The sleeves of Harry’s sweater were pushed up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms and ink smudges along one hand.
Ink smudges.
Which should not have been attractive.
And yet.
Traitorous biology.
Harry glanced toward Hermione automatically the second he entered the room.
Then smiled.
Not politely.
Not casually.
No.
A warm, lazy sort of smile that made Hermione suddenly understand why witches in romance novels walked directly into walls and forgot basic motor function.
Dean made a wounded sound.
“Oh, he’s looking at her like she’s a clean sheet of parchment, a perfect cup of tea and the meaning of life all wrapped into one.”
Justin Finch-Fletchley clutched Dean’s arm dramatically. “I can’t keep watching this,” he whispered emotionally. “He’s completely forgotten how to be a proper Hufflepuff badger. Look at the tie!”
Lavender sighed dreamily.
Parvati fanned herself with her textbook.
Somewhere behind them, Colin Creevey appeared to be sketching.
Hermione didn’t even want to know.
Harry, meanwhile, looked deeply pleased by her visible suffering.
The menace.
He slid into the empty seat beside her like that was simply where he belonged now.
Which,
Disturbingly,
It was beginning to feel like.
“You’re late,” Hermione informed him sternly.
Harry looked at her.
Then at the clock.
Then back at her.
“I’m thirty seconds early.”
“You’re usually five minutes early.”
Harry’s mouth twitched.
“Didn’t realize you paid such close attention to me, Granger.”
Hermione froze.
Lavender made a strangled choking noise somewhere behind them.
Harry leaned closer before Hermione could recover.
“You know,” he murmured quietly, “you get this little line between your eyebrows when you’re flustered.”
“I am not flustered.”
“There it is.”
Hermione slapped a hand over the space between her brows instantly.
Harry grinned.
“Oh my God,” Parvati whispered behind them. “He’s domesticated her.”
“I heard that,” Hermione snapped.
“Good.”
Professor Flitwick entered before Hermione could commit homicide.
“Good afternoon, everyone!”
The class chorused greetings.
“Well then,” Flitwick said brightly, clapping his hands together, “today we’ll be practicing paired concentration charms!”
Hermione’s stomach dropped instantly.
Around the room, chairs scraped eagerly.
Flitwick beamed.
“I’ve already arranged partners!”
Of course he had.
Hermione stared briefly at the ceiling as if appealing to a higher power.
Beside her, Harry looked deeply entertained.
“Mr. Potter and Miss Granger-”
Several students applauded.
Actually applauded.
Someone wolf-whistled.
Susan Bones looked one emotional moment away from tears.
“-will work together.”
“THIS IS BETTER THAN WATCHING TRELAWNEY TRY TO READ SNAPE’S PALM,” Dean announced loudly.
“Blasphemy,” Ron said automatically from the back of the room.
Then paused.
“Actually, no. Carry on.”
Hermione turned slowly.
“Why are you all like this?”
“Because this is the most exciting thing to happen since Malfoy got turned into a ferret,” Dean answered honestly.
Malfoy looked offended from across the room.
“That was a traumatic experience.”
“No,” Theo Nott replied calmly, “watching Potter flirt with Granger during breakfast is traumatic.”
Blaise nodded.
“At this point the entire school is third-wheeling.”
Harry looked entirely too pleased by this statement.
Hermione glared at him.
“This is your fault.”
Harry gasped softly and placed a dramatic hand against his chest.
“Hermione,” he said solemnly, “you wound me.”
“You deserve wounds.”
“You kissed me voluntarily.”
Hermione choked on absolutely nothing.
Half the class lost their minds instantly.
“Oh THAT’S information,” Seamus shouted.
"TEN POINTS TO HUFFLEPUFF!” Hannah Abbott shouted triumphantly from the front row.
"Oh, Merlin’s pants," Zacharias Smith groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands. “We are never going to hear the end of this in the common room. He’s going to start writing poetry next, I just know it.”
Lavender grabbed Parvati’s arm so violently that Parvati nearly fell off her chair.
“I KNEW THERE WAS KISSING.”
Professor Flitwick adjusted his spectacles.
“Well,” he squeaked faintly, “how wonderfully… communicative.”
Hermione buried her face in her hands.
Beside her, Harry leaned comfortably back in his chair like he hadn’t just detonated her social life.
“You know,” he murmured near her ear, “you’re very cute when you’re threatening violence.”
Hermione turned toward him furiously.
Big mistake.
Because Harry was already looking at her with that warm, devastating focus again.
Like she was the only interesting thing in the room.
Honestly, it was becoming medically concerning.
“You’re staring,” she whispered accusingly.
Harry didn’t even look ashamed.
“You’re pretty.”
Hermione’s brain stopped functioning.
Completely.
Utterly.
Gone.
Somewhere in the background, Dean Thomas slapped the desk hard enough to startle Neville.
“HE SAID IT OUT LOUD.”
Professor Flitwick looked one emotional moment away from ascending spiritually.
Parvati grabbed Lavender’s shoulders violently.
“I need a diary,” Lavender whispered frantically. “This is history.”
Harry, apparently deciding Hermione’s suffering wasn’t complete yet, reached over and fixed the strap of her book bag where it had slipped down her shoulder.
Casual.
Gentle.
Automatic.
Hermione felt her entire nervous system short-circuit.
It was ridiculous how warm the spot felt afterward.
As though his touch had lingered beneath the fabric of her robes.
Honestly, at this point Hermione was beginning to suspect Harry Potter possessed illegal levels of charm.
“Oh, they’re gone,” Theo Nott announced. “They’re in love.”
“We can all see it,” Blaise added lazily.
“Unfortunately,” Malfoy muttered darkly.
Hermione finally found her voice.
“You,” she informed Harry weakly, “are impossible.”
Harry’s smile softened instantly.
“But you still like me.”
And honestly?
That was becoming a very difficult thing to deny.
__________🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️__________
Elsewhere in Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall sat at her desk with the expression of a woman experiencing profound vindication.
She had suspected this would happen eventually.
One did not survive decades of teaching teenagers without recognizing catastrophic romantic tension when it aggressively camped in front of you.
Still.
Watching Hermione Granger - the same Hermione Granger who once corrected a professor for misquoting Hogwarts: A History - become visibly flustered because Harry Potter called her pretty had been deeply satisfying.
Minerva adjusted her spectacles thoughtfully. Then reached for parchment.
Perhaps, she reflected, Lily Potter deserved to hear about this development.
The Marauders would undoubtedly become intolerable once they found out.
James, especially, would probably throw a celebratory feast.
But Lily ~
Lily would appreciate the irony.
After all, her son had somehow managed to fall for the only girl in Hogwarts capable of glaring someone into personal growth.
A tiny smile tugged at Minerva’s mouth as she began writing.
She was deliberately vague, of course.
Professionalism mattered.
Mostly.
Still, one particular sentence made her pause thoughtfully before she penned it neatly onto the parchment:
You may wish to visit Hogwarts soon. Certain long-standing observations have recently become… mutual.
Minerva folded the letter with immense satisfaction.
Oh yes.
Lily’s reaction was going to be magnificent.