Chapter Text
"So, Harry. Now that you're 15, ready to take your O.W.L.s and all, any girlfriends I should know about? I find it suspicious how I never had James bragging about how grown up his son is bringing a girl home and all that jazz." Sirius asked his godson while helping him pack for his new term at Hogwarts. Not receiving a response, he looked over to Harry, whose face was red with embarrassment. "No way, don't tell me you haven't had a single one–"
"It's not that I haven't been able to have one really, I've just had more important things to worry about!" Harry interrupted as his face rapidly shifted into indignation. He then continued when Sirius maintained his unconvinced countenance, "Really! I've been too busy keeping up with my studies to even think of getting a girlfriend!"
"More like too busy keeping up with one Hermione Granger." A voice teasingly cut in through the doorway to Harry's bedroom.
“Mother!”
“Oh don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s been going on since your first year.” Lily had the look of someone who’s had this conversation many times. “No, I’m not trying to keep up with her! It’s just some rivalry on the side since we care about our grades. That's all.” Harry completed his argument, crossing his arms as he rose to full height in front of his mother.
Of course, despite Harry’s vehemence, they both knew how this academic rivalry really started. It was a week before 1 September 1991 when a deal was made between mother and son.
“Now, Harry, please stop sulking around. You always knew you would be attending Hogwarts!” Lily bustled around making sure Harry’s things were in order. “Really, it’s not like you’ll never see us again, you’ll come back during the holidays! Actually, I’ll even be there next year as I’m taking over for Potions since Professor Slughorn is retiring.”
“‘s not the same.” Harry muttered, begrudgingly putting the things his mother passes to him in his trunk. Lily sighed looking at her son’s continued display of despondence. “Tell you what, if you promise to be mature about this, suck it up, go to school, I’ll reconsider my refusal to let you buy a new broom.”
Those words seemed to have worked as Harry instantly perked up at hearing them. He then decided to push his luck and get more out of his mother’s rare generous mood, “How about you agree to letting me get a Firebolt if I get top of my year?” Harry tried to look as imploring as ever, widening his eyes and pouting a bit for good measure. “No Firebolt-” Lily said, holding up a finger to signify she had more to say when Harry tried to argue, “But, I’ll allow a Nimbus. IF, and only if you get top of the year this year.”
“You have yourself a deal.” Harry happily agreed, confident in his ability to pick up magic theory over the years.
However, his hopes were dashed when he got to be acquainted with one Hermione Granger. Despite being sorted into Gryffindor, her devotion to studies did not pale in comparison to any Ravenclaw. That year, it was not just once or twice he reveled in success over mastering a new spell, only to get frustrated to see his professor in the middle of praising the studious bushy-haired bookworm, having mastered it minutes before him. Needless to say, Harry Potter ended that year without a new broom, Nimbus or not, and with a new grudge-filled sense of rivalry against one Miss Granger.
After that day, Harry started the second year with a desire to exact vengeance, channeling all his effort into studying like never before, successfully earning the top spot for that year in addition to becoming the target of Hermione’s competitive spirit. This back and forth continued ever since and this fifth year would be the same. Harry would be damned before he would let the girl get the last laugh, it definitely had nothing to do with the swooping feeling he felt to see her eyes focused only on him every time he got one over her. Nothing at all!
Lily just smiled knowingly at her son— though just what it was she thought she knew Harry could honestly say he had no clue whatsoever, and just continued placatingly, “Of course dear, whatever you say. If anything I’m happy you have something motivating you to study, you’ll need it more than ever since your O.W.L.s are coming up this year.” Sirius just looked amused at their short squabble.
“So, Harry, apparently you’ve been unsuccessful in catching this witch of yours for the past four years? Please tell me you’ve at least had your first kiss, it wouldn’t do to be completely inexperienced once you win her over.” Ignoring all insinuations Sirius made about Hermione, Harry tried to find a way to defend himself for his lack of experience in the kissing department so far. Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, his mother had the perfect defense against it, “Oh, but Harry has had his first kiss already.”
“I have?” “He has?” Two voices echoed, one incredulous, the other pleasantly surprised.
“Yes, he has. When he was five, we were on holiday in France and he found himself a little girlfriend while playing in the sandbox at the playground near the hotel we were staying at…” Lily then started her vivid storytelling.
It was their first day in France, and they didn’t want to go anywhere far after a rather hectic time in immigration traveling by airplane for the first time since Harry had been born. They settled on bringing Harry out to play in the nearby playground to spend his bountiful energy so that he would be able to fall asleep easily later that night.
Harry then made his way to the sandbox where a girl his age could be seen playing, bushy brown head of hair bouncing as she bustled around to complete her sandcastle. Harry, curious as ever, asked her what she was doing before she launched into a fervent description of her floorplan and ended up roping Harry into helping her with the moat around the castle, complete with a drawbridge.
Lily couldn’t help but giggle at the cute sight, noticing another couple sending similar amused looks at the two children. She then decided to strike up a conversation with who she assumed were the girl’s parents, finding out that they were visiting the girl’s French grandmother and that they were happy she finally made a friend her age in Harry. It turned out that the young girl often ended up playing by herself as other kids preferred to do more physically active things such as playing tag around the playground compared to building sandcastles according to the girl’s instruction.
Lily could understand since kids often preferred running around than sitting still but couldn’t help but feel bad for the young girl’s isolation. She was glad that Harry got along with the young girl and hoped he helped alleviate some loneliness from the girl. Afterwards she asked Harry if he wanted to keep playing here with his new friend while they were on holiday, to which he agreed enthusiastically.
A few days into their growing friendship the pair suddenly decided to act out a relationship as they told each other they saw in movies, gifting flowers, holding hands, hugging and even cheek kisses. This continued until they eventually had to separate a week after the start of their “relationship” since the girl’s holiday was coming to an end and had to go home. The two children then did something they’d never done before, sharing a chaste kiss (“Like the movies!” Her son told her afterwards), and tearfully promising to see each other again.
Of course, Lily helped her son write letters to the girl at the end of her own correspondence with the girl’s mother, having found a friend in her. However, Harry’s attention was soon taken over by his new ability to ride brooms and the month-long friend he had made in France was forgotten in favour of spending all his time broom-riding with Uncle Sirius who was visiting during his week-long holiday.
“So, imagine my surprise when I see the same girl and her parents at Kings Cross Station six years later in Hogwarts robes all ready for her first year as a witch-in-training-”
“Woah, woah. Hold on a second, this girl that I apparently kissed is a witch? Someone I might even know now?” Harry interrupted his mother when he heard the last bit of information.
“Oh, did I not mention it? The girl is Hermione.”
Harry’s thoughts screeched to a halt at this, his already spiraling emotions now left him feeling as though he’d just nose-dived off a cliff. I kissed Hermione? I kissed Hermione! ME? Kissing HERMIONE? My first kiss. And I don’t remember it. With Hermione. I can’t let anyone know about this.
No, wait, it doesn't matter. We were five for goodness sake. Right, sandbox relationships don’t count! Even Dudley said so. And Dudley rarely made much sense as is. Besides, Hermione probably doesn’t remember.. Actually, maybe she does? That would certainly explain why she looked so startled as she ran to me when we first met, or, when I thought we first met. She also looked rather disappointed when I asked her name. Ah shite, she does remember me. My arse would have been spared many stinging hexes if I had remembered this…
Harry didn’t know what to feel at this revelation. He considered the worn out childish grudge of not getting his broom so long ago because of her, knowing he was well and truly over it; his trying to protect his ego by continuing to compete with her without reason; the secret feeling of exhilaration that’s making itself known, familiar through the many times it appeared when Hermione came over to squabble over who got the better grade in an assignment… The denial he’s so tightly kept in his grasp is slipping away as he felt a now recognisable sense of hope before swiftly squashing everything down in favour of the familiar safety he’d come to associate with the mantra of ignore, ignore, ignore.
As Harry’s thoughts raced Sirius started laughing in amusement at his godson’s predicament. He then teasingly elbowed him, still chuckling, saying, “At least we know your pining isn’t hopeless, eh, Harry?” Harry just glared at his godfather, simply turning back to his packing with a mutinous expression.
Unfortunately, regardless of his wishes Harry simply could not move past and forget about what his mother revealed to him after four years of keeping it from him while he was getting (re)acquainted with Hermione. He could not stop himself from turning red when he saw the witch while walking through the many hallways at Hogwarts, nor could he clap back against the taunts she threw his way like he usually would have, instead spouting off an excuse and running the other way. As this continued, he also couldn’t help but notice the confused looks that came over her face when he acted out of character, hoping she won’t figure out the reason behind his strange behaviour.
This was wishful thinking as he found himself confronted by the witch shortly after the first week of the term came to pass.
“Potter! Why are you behaving so strangely?” The witch confronted him abruptly. After a moment Harry realised that this was his only free period today. Putting his curiosity at when, why and how the witch came to remember his time table aside he took a calming breath before responding. “Why, Granger, I don’t know what you mean–” He started placatingly.
“Oh come off it, you definitely know what I mean. You’ve been avoiding all the hallways where we usually pass by each other, took the time to arrange for a new seat at the corner of the table where we could not glimpse each other even if we tried, stammered ridiculously in response to my, ahem, attempts to strike conversation and dashed off as if there were a banshee chasing after you, not to mention how you turn an interesting shade of red when we happen to make eye contact. Now, please tell me, what did I do that caused this.” As Hermione listed off the pieces of evidence of Harry’s strange behaviour, Harry felt a mounting urge to escape this conversation.
Harry’s mind scrambled for a good excuse for his behaviour and gathered himself to project his normal attitude to interacting with the witch in front of him. “Right, sorry Granger, I didn’t know that you paid so much attention to me. Really, I’m flattered that you’d worry about me so. I’ve simply been a bit under the weather really, but I’ve recovered.” His efforts proved success in masking his nerves as the witch huffed at Harry’s response which contained its usual irritating flirtatious nature. “Clearly, I overthought if you still have the energy to try to rile me up. Honestly. Alright then, I’ll see you in Arithmancy, Potter.”
If Harry were of clearer mind he’d probably have caught the underlying disappointment in his self-proclaimed enemy’s unusually stilted response after hearing his explanation, but as it is he could only heave a sigh of relief that he was cleared of any suspicions.