Chapter Text
The problem with studying in the Gryffindor common room was that people insisted on existing in it.
“You know,” said Ron loudly, sprawled upside down across an armchair, “normal people take breaks.”
“I did take a break,” said Hermione Granger without looking up from her Arithmancy essay. “At dinner.”
“That was three hours ago,” said Ron with a seriousness that resembled his brother Percy.
Hermione dipped her quill again. “And?”
Ron looked toward Harry for support. Harry, however, was no help whatsoever because he was busy watching Hermione push a strand of hair behind her ear for what had to be the twentieth time.
Which was ridiculous.
He’d seen Hermione every day for nearly seven years. There was absolutely no reason that should still distract him.
“Mate,” Ron said slowly, “you’re doing the staring thing again.”
Harry nearly dropped his parchment.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Hermione looked up immediately.
“What staring thing?”
“Nothing,” Harry and Ron said at the same time.
Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Harry bent over his homework with the intensity of a man trying to bury himself alive in parchment.
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An hour later, the common room had emptied considerably. Ron had wandered off to find food despite having already eaten enough for a small village.
Ginny was playing Exploding Snap nearby. Dean and Seamus were arguing over Quidditch.
And Hermione....
Hermione was asleep.
Harry looked up from his Transfiguration essay and froze.
She was curled awkwardly against the sofa arm, quill still loosely in hand, several books sliding dangerously toward the floor. Her hair had escaped its braid completely, spreading across the cushion in messy curls.
Harry smiled helplessly.
“She’s going to wake up furious at herself,” Ginny observed casually while rearranging her Exploding Snap cards.
Harry jumped. “Blimey, Ginny -”
“You fancy her.”
Harry choked on air.
Dean nearly fell off the arm of the sofa he was sitting on.
“I do not.”
“Harry,” Ginny said patiently, “you look at Hermione like she’s the happy memory you use to cast your Patronus.”
“I do not!” Harry was quick. Very quick.
Ginny Weasley appreciated a good challenge. She was never one to back out.
“You once smiled at her for ten minutes because she sneezed.”
“That’s not true.”
“You counted her freckles during breakfast.”
Harry went scarlet.
“That was ONE TIME.”
Dean and Seamus had stopped pretending not to listen.
Ginny finally glanced over, deeply unimpressed.
“You’re telling me you’ve survived dragons, Death Eaters, Voldemort and Snape but asking Hermione out is where you draw the line?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds pathetic.”
“Because it is pathetic.”
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Unfortunately for Harry, this conversation occurred approximately thirty seconds before disaster.
Hermione shifted in her sleep just as her essay slid off her lap.
Harry lunged automatically to catch the parchment before it hit the fire.
At the exact same moment, Hermione jerked awake suddenly and sat up.
Their timing could not have been worse.
Or more astronomically unfortunate.
Hermione turned.
Harry leaned forward.
And suddenly
Hermione kissed him.
Well.
Technically they crashed into each other face-first.
But there was definitely kissing involved.
Very brief kissing.
Warm, startled, unmistakable kissing.
The common room went silent.
Utterly silent.
Dean choked on his own sentence. Seamus slapped a hand over his mouth. Ginny slowly lowered her cards with the expression of someone witnessing prophecy fulfillment.
Harry and Hermione stared at each other in complete horror.
Neither moved.
Neither breathed.
Harry’s brain had entirely shut down.
Hermione’s eyes were enormous.
There was a full second where they remained frozen like two people whose souls had left for privacy.
Then both of them launched backward simultaneously.
Hermione hit the sofa arm.
Harry nearly fell onto the carpet.
“Oh my God,” Hermione squeaked.
“I didn’t mean - ”
“I wasn’t trying to - ”
“That was an accident - ”
“Yes! Completely accidental!”
A terrible silence followed.
Ginny looked delighted. Dean looked spiritually fulfilled. Seamus looked ready to write songs about this moment.
Ron walked back into the common room holding toast.
“What’d I miss?”
Nobody answered.
Ron frowned.
“Why do you both look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Harry’s face was so red it was entering new magical categories.
Hermione had gone completely motionless, clutching a cushion like it was life support.
Ginny grinned slowly.
“Oh, nothing,” she said brightly. “Harry and Hermione just accidentally snogged.”
Ron dropped the toast. Then caught it because it was toast!
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“It was not snogging,” Hermione said seventeen minutes later.
“It looked like snogging,” said Ginny.
“It was a collision.”
“A collision with emotional consequences,” Dean muttered.
Hermione glared at him.
Harry had not recovered enough to participate in human conversation. He was currently staring at the fireplace with the thousand-yard expression of a war survivor.
Ron sat across from them looking betrayed by reality itself.
“You kissed Hermione.”
“It was an accident!”
“You still kissed Hermione!”
“We collided!”
Ron pointed accusingly. “With your mouths!”
Hermione buried her face in her hands.
“This is deeply humiliating.”
“Really?” Ginny asked. “Because Harry looks one minor inconvenience away from proposing.”
Harry made a strangled noise.
Dean collapsed laughing.
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Things only got worse from there.
Because now they were aware.
Painfully aware.
Every accidental touch became a full-scale emotional emergency.
Harry handing Hermione a book?
Finger contact.
Immediate mutual panic.
Hermione leaning over his shoulder to help with homework?
Harry forgot his own name.
At one point their knees brushed during breakfast and both of them physically recoiled so fast they smacked into the table.
Ron stared at them.
“You two are actually idiots.”
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Then came the library incident.
Hermione was reaching for a book at the exact same moment Harry rounded the shelf corner too quickly.
They collided again.
Not kissed.
Just collided.
But after the previous disaster, both reacted like they’d detonated a bomb.
“Sorry!” Harry blurted.
“No, my fault!”
Madam Pince shushed them violently.
Hermione shoved a book into Harry’s chest without looking at him.
Harry took it automatically.
It was upside down.
Neither noticed.
Across the aisle, Ginny peeked around the bookshelf.
“You know,” she said conversationally, “most people just date instead of reenacting romantic near death experiences.”
Hermione looked scandalized.
Harry looked hopeful.
Ron, from somewhere nearby, shouted:
“JUST KISS PROPERLY THIS TIME SO WE CAN ALL MOVE ON.”