| Every parent leaves something behind for their children to remember them by. Lily Evans didn�t know, when she left her diary behind, that it would help her son into knowing her and himself�or did she? Disclaimer: I own nothing. You know it, I know it, so why bother denying it. Thank yous: First to J Choo, who�s been reading and proof-reading my story without ever having been asked. ALL my reviewers, you guys really make my day! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Oh, yeah, and anon, yes, all the Italian words were spelled right (^_^) and Midknight: I�m sorry, but this is going to be a VERY mushy chapter. Warning: Like I already said this is a seriously mushy chapter with a good of TWO couples kissing and neither of them getting together! Oh, I�m evil. But, like I said, this is meant to be angsty. Anyway, prepare for a load of crappy, fluffy mush and not much comic relief. Another thing. I kind of fast forwarded a whole year and a half of Lily�s diary, hope you guys don�t mind. You�ve been warned. And now: On with the fic. Harry Potter and the Knowledge of a Mother Chapter 4: Kisses and visions "Ron! Settle down and study already!" Hermione chastised after said boy snapped his third quill in half an hour. "Easy for you to say," he replied bitterly. Harry and Hermione exchanged exasperated glances, as they�d been doing for over a month and a half now. They knew very well that whatever it was that was bothering him had to do with a certain Ravenclaw by the name of Krista Perril. The two had been at each other�s throats since the day after they returned to Hogwarts, and now they were already halfway through the month of November. Ron knew very well that his friends were weary of his�rather awkward rivalry with the short blond girl that he�d been trying to avoid�quite unsuccessfully�for such a long time now. That girl seemed to know exactly where to be at precisely the right time, with the most intimidating and realistic taunt, that always felt like a sounding slap to the cheek. It was really beginning to get too much. No matter how many tricks he pulled on her, the pranks, the taunts, the jokes�they were useless. Because she knew him. And that was scary. Because he didn�t know her nearly half as well as she knew him. He didn�t know how she knew what she knew, how she could put it to use so well, how she always seemed aware of his every thought and move, or how just one of her looks could send his mind in turmoil. And this was for different reasons. Sometimes, she would look at him with pure undisguised venom in her eyes, which would, of course, set his blood boiling and, therefore, instigate disasters such as the huge Ravenclaw/Gryffindor tornado food fight on Halloween, which, by the way, had been a load of fun, but had resulted in even more hostility on both parties. Some other times, though�he didn�t know for sure, but he would catch a glimpse of her staring at him in near anguish. And that hurt. As much as she seemed to be trying to ruin his life and his resolve that he didn�t want Harry to have the perfect life with Hermione, he never wanted to hurt her. Never. And this situation was making him edgy. And that was not good because Ron had always been too edgy for his own good, and adding to it was not a good idea. So, since this train of thought was bringing him to a dark tunnel, he veered his mind onto something else. "Did you guys think of anything to put in the Memory Case?" Yep, that�s good, think of that. Never mind that Gryffindors came up with enough ideas to fill dozens of capsules, it was always good to have a few extra things. "Ah, there you are, Weasel," came a new, rather cold (more like freezing) female voice, and at the sound of it, the Trio stiffened. "What do you want?" Ron spat. He didn�t even notice that he�d just snapped the new quill that he picked up. She seemed to soften a little, and her hands left her hips. "Just a private conference with you," she told, and her eyes spoke volumes of what she thought of his cursing tone, for they�d just turned dull. Of course, Ron noticed this, but they were at war, and one must never pity the enemy. "Plan on pulling some kind of hex on me?" He asked bitterly, not even hinting at following her. He saw her hands fist, and her face tighten in an expression of pure rage. "No, Ronald, I came to speak to you of something serious, but since you don�t seem intent on listening, I won�t waste your time, or mine," and with that she crossed her arms over her chest and made to leave. "Alright, talk, I�m listening," Ron called after her as loudly as he dared with Madame Pince giving him one of her �Quiet-this-is-a-library� looks. "Never mind," she told him, and this time, she sounded resigned, tired, and sad. And she made to keep on walking, but something told Ron to hold her back, so he reached for one of her arms and pulled her back. "No, really, tell me," he pleaded, and he stood up while saying this so that he now had to bend his back to be eye level with her. She stared at him, as if considering whether or not to tell him, then lowering her eyes to the floor before glancing at Harry and Hermione who�d been trying to follow the exchange from behind their parchments. Their guilty expressions told very clearly that they were listening in. "Could we go somewhere private?" She asked him quietly, "Please?" She pleaded as well. Ron had to bite back the urge to swallow and blush, and nodded, following her out of the library. Harry and Hermione both let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. They both turned to grin at each other. "What do you think she had to tell him?" Harry asked with knit eyebrows. Hermione shrugged, contemplating the exchange. "I don�t know," she told, "but I hope they�ll make up, finally," she gave him a broad smile at the thought. "Ron needs someone like Krista, she�s probably the only one that he would listen to, even more than me," she explained. Harry, on the other hand, looked shocked at her declaration. "What?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh, come on, Harry. Don�t tell me you missed they way those two look at each other!" she exclaimed. "Yeah, with pure hatred!" She rolled her eyes. "Harry, that�s just a facade!" She told him exasperated. "They�ve been playing a game of cat and mouse the whole time, I really hope today they get it over with," she told him again, a small smile gracing her lips. I really hope we get it over with too. Of course, Harry did notice that there was a certain attraction between Ron and the Ravenclaw�along with the rest of the school�but that Hermione would be happy for them to act out on it, well, it really didn�t seem to fit in the picture. After all, he was sure she�d loved the redhead for quite some time now. Hermione must have noticed the disbelief on his face, so, rolling her eyes, she told him again for the forth time that day, "Get off it, Harry. I�m not in love with him." Funny that, even after all the good reasons that she gave him, and the number of times she�d said that same exact phrase before, this would be the first time that he might start to believe her. �*� She�d dragged him to the same hallway (which was practically always deserted) in which they�d had their first argument. The one in which she�d caught him eavesdropping on Harry and Hermione after breakfast. For some reason this made him uneasy. "What is it, Krista?" Why was it that he didn�t manage to get one bit of hostility in his question? She seemed encouraged by this however. "I�m tired Ron," she told him finally. "What?" "I�m tired," she repeated. "I�m tired of this stupid game that we�ve been playing, of the fights, and the taunts. I�m tired of you not excepting the truth of your feelings, or your friends or mine," she explained. I have no bloody idea of what your feelings might be! He screamed in his mind. And it was true. This girl�more than any other�was a true mystery to him. A puzzle that he couldn�t put together. An enigma that he couldn�t solve. A chess game in which he didn�t know how to move. Of course, that could have been because she kept herself safely sheltered from him. Ron, instead, always made sure everyone knew if he was happy, or miserable, or whatever else. "Most of all, Ron," she continued. "I�m�I�m tired of always being mad, and upset, and depressed at you," she finished. It took the tall redhead a while to register what that might mean. Nah, it couldn�t be possible. Well, maybe he should ask. So he did. "What do you mean?" She stared at him. For a long time. Willing herself to say, yet at the same time, screaming at herself not to do so. He�s not ready yet. Let it all sink in first. She instructed herself. "I want a truce, Ron. If you don�t want to except the truth, fine! I�m washing my hands clean of this. Keep on destroying yourself and your friends for a lie, I won�t stop you, but this�what we�ve been doing�it�s got to stop. It�s a situation that is making me very uneasy," she told him. He blinked. "But you were the one who started it all. You stepped into this. You never had to." Ron protested. She nodded. "You�re right," she agreed. "I just thought that Harry and Hermione suffer enough already, and you adding onto it isn�t fair. They�re miserable, and so are you," she concluded. "What made you change your mind?" he asked, a lump forming in his throat without reason. In truth their little bickering had become a constant part of his school life lately, and he would probably miss it now that she�d called a truce. "Because I�m miserable too now, and I�m only contributing to your stubbornness. Maybe if I back off, you�ll come to terms with things yourself," she replied. Ron nodded, and, after a moment of thought, actually chuckled. "What?" She asked with knit eyebrows. "It�s just that�" he began, but how do you explain that he actually did come to term with things? "Well, you really did help me out a lot, even if not in the best of ways. I just wanted to ignore what you were trying to tell me. Probably because saying you were right would have been like saying I lost," he blushed and chuckled again. She shook her head. "No," she contradicted. "We both lost." He didn�t have time to ask her what she meant by that, that she was already turning her back on him to leave. Again he reached his hand out to hold her arm and spin her around. "Would you bloody stop running away from me?" He yelled in anger. She�d been doing that since their first meeting, and he was really getting sick of it. "Why do you always get the say in when the conversation is over or not? It�s really infuriating, you know that?" He hissed lowering himself to her eye level. She lowered her eyes and mumbled an apology. This shocked Ron into letting go of her. She was saying she was sorry? What the bloody hell was going on? "What�s got into you?" He asked bewildered. And this time she was upset. "Oh, hell, Ron! Why does everybody have to answer to you, huh? Why do you ask things that are always already obvious and painful to say? You know, if you just thought about it a little bit you might just get to the answers yourself, sparing both of us a load of pain and embarrassment! And I�m sick of it!" She yelled, stepping on her tip toes in a futile attempt to reach his height. "I�m sick of it," she repeated. And, terrified, she realised that her vision was blurring, and that her eyes were beginning to water. Frozen under her watery unwavering gaze, and the anger that he�d caused her he could only mumble a poor sounding, shocked, "Sorry�" This seemed to deflate her. He didn�t know. He didn�t realise. And she�d just scared him off. "Yeah, I�m sorry, too," she whispered lowering her gaze to the floor and making to turn around. "Wait!" Ron called to her. She stopped with her back to him, her face turned so that he knew he had her attention, but still not letting him look at her face. "Yes?" "Uh�uhm�well�" come on Ron, spill it! He yelled at himself. "Do�do you mind�if we can still be friends?" He stuttered, a thick blush spreading across his cheeks. God, he sounded like a bloody grade schooler! But she turned so that their eyes could meet, and, with a small smile taunted, "Do you think you can manage being my friend?" Ah, there was the Krista that he�d known before they�d begun arguing. There was the sarcastically funny girl that he�d met when he�d bloodied her ex-boyfriend�s nose. "I think I can handle it," he responded confidently with a lopsided goofy grin, his freckles dancing merrily on his cheeks. "Well, then I�ll see you around," she said as she began to walk away again, this time without him stopping her, but before she turned the corner, she faced him again and added a simple word that nearly melted him into mush. "Friend." That was as good a place as any to start, right? �*� Not too late that night, probably only around 10:30 p.m., in the Gryffindor common room, empty because everyone (including Ron) had gone to their beds to dream (and get some rest for Hogsmeade weekend), Harry and Hermione were sitting by the hearth, with a crackling fire warming them, as Hermione�s voice washed over them both, pouring out the words that had been penned by Lily Marianne Evans. They had reached the Christmas of her second year, and were reading of her mirth of the holidays, of her giddy state as she met her family after the long months of separation, and of worries. Worries, that, this time were brought on by visions of betrayal. I saw the dark future of one of us. I don�t know who it could be, because, if he were to make the right choices in life, he won�t come to it. Yet, as it is, I fear it is a strong possibility. It was hazy, so I don�t know the details, but he�ll turn away from us. I can�t think of who it could be, but he wore blood stained Gryffindor colours, and I fear him. There is a dark shadow on the rise. A wizard. Powerful. And dark. I don�t know his name yet, but I�m sure I will soon enough. The betrayer will turn away from us and to this wizard�s shadow, and if it happens, someone else must face him and stop him. I didn�t know this shadow, either, even if it reminded me very much of James. He was just a shadow, but the outline of his hair was black, and he had bright, brave green eyes, and on his forehead (or where I guessed his forehead would be) a bright, glowing red�squiggle. It must have been some type of scar. It pulsated in pain when the Dark Lord neared him. It was thin, blinding, it looked like a fire bolt, and it weighed heavy on his shoulders. The boy must face them both, and then, all I know is that he�ll have to protect his light, or perish. "Light? I�ve heard of something like that! I�ll have to remember to check into it and do some research," Hermione said out loud, mostly speaking with herself. For a while she kept mumbling the way she usually did when concentrating on remembering something. Watching her, Harry realised that he didn�t want this reading session to end today. "Uhm�Hermione?" He called to her quietly. She snapped out of her thoughts to look inquisitively at Harry. "Uhm�listen, since tomorrow we don�t have classes or anything, and since the Duelling Club with Dumbledore and Snape is in the late afternoon, do you think we could�keep reading longer tonight?" He asked apprehensively. She smiled at how small and childish he looked while asking this. The Dursleys had never given him anything, and now, even though he knew his friends loved him, he was still afraid of being refused. And rejected. "Sure, Harry," she reassured him, "I�ll read till we drop from sleep deprivation." And with that she turned back to diary, finishing the passage that she�d been on earlier, reading several more. My visions lately have been getting very jumbled, and more involved as well. The betrayer has left my dreams, but the wolf has returned, probably because it�s full moon time again. This time, though, there�s more detail, and more confusion, and it�s far clearer than I�ve ever seen it. And what scares me is that there are people in it. People for whom I care deeply. I saw the four of them, looking as mischievous as always, yet sad, quiet before the Whomping Willow, in front of the full moon. There was Remus, face shamed and downcast sitting on a knot of the Whomping Willow, the same wolf I always dream of, next to him, comforting him, it would seem, but truly haunting him. On Remus�s left, Peter, quiet, and scared, trembling, with a small mouse sitting on his shoulder looking just as terrified as he. On Remus�s right, Sirius, sitting in his taunting, superior manner, trying to calm down a terrified, great, big, dark, long haired dog, cowering at the idea of something. And then, in front of them all, as always in the part of the fearless leader, stood James, smiling at his companions, but ashen, his hand resting on the strong back of a big, beautiful stag, edgy but fearless. All of them turned to look at me with a small, sad smile on their faces, waving at me, and disappearing into the tree. I can�t figure out what it could mean, there are too many pieces of the puzzle missing, but I do know one thing. That smile, and that wave at the end, felt very much like a farewell. A goodbye. It felt final. And I�m scared. As they kept on reading, they found out of the Marauders (they�d started calling themselves that after coming back from Christmas) constantly disappearing, of how they�d put distance between themselves and Lily and Jenna, of Lily�s ever clearing visions, of how after the visions kept getting stronger she decided to go talk to Dumbledore. It turned out that the ancient wizard could help, for he, himself, was a Seer. This surprise Harry and Hermione not in small amount. They�d read through their adventures of the Duelling Club during second year, learned of her summer spent with Jenna where she confessed all of her visions, and of their return to Hogwarts for third. They found out of how Voldemort started to make his name known towards the middle of third year, and of how Lily had always known that it had been Tom Riddle. I was cleaning the trophy cases, helping out the caretaker (who is a freak by the way) so that he would go easy on James during his detention, and as I passed one of the cases I saw one that had been awarded to a boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle. I felt his hate for his Muggle born father, for all Muggles, for his orphanage, and then I saw his Dark shadow reflected in the glass of the casing. Next to those visions of the wolf and the Marauders, it was the scariest thing I�d ever seen. I was sweating cold just looking at it, and I was glad the caretaker didn�t make me open the case and clean it or I might have fainted. But I know he�s Voldemort (I don�t know why people started calling him You-Know-Who). He�s sent attacks on the families of Muggleborns, and now, many Muggleborn students have left school to go home where they think it�s safer. Fools, I say. There is no safer place than Hogwarts, under the care of Dumbledore. After all, Tom Riddle always feared him. Slytherins however, with their distaste for us Muggleborn, have taken to tormenting us. I seem to be one of their favourite targets, not only because I�m Muggle and a Gryffindor, but also because I best most of them in nearly every subject, and because I�m close to the Marauders, to which all of them have fallen, at least once, victims. Most of her entries throughout her third year were of that like. They spoke of the attacks on the Muggleborn families, of the Slytherins� harassment towards her, of the Marauders pranks, and of her regular life. The only difference was that nearly at the end of the year she had begun dating a Gryffindor one year ahead by the name of Jonathan, also a Muggleborn. Harry had been bothered by this, but he could understand the fact that she wouldn�t be sharing her first kiss with his father, much in the same way he hadn�t shared any of his firsts with Hermione, though he wished he had. That summer she�d spent with Jonathan. In forth, the harassment from the Slytherins had begun to become violent. Near to Christmas break she�d been sitting by the lake with Jonathan when eight of them all came at once to make fun of the Mugblood couple. Jonathan, apparently, had tried to put up a fight, but soon ended up whimpering and telling Lily that it might have been better to be seeing other people (many an insults were spit out of both Harry and Hermione�s mouths at this) while running off to save his own hide. She�d been cornered by the eight big leering Slytherins, ready to pull out her wand and hex them all, when Cicciobello had come to her rescue. Or rather, James had come to her rescue on his return from Quidditch practice. The Slytherins had taunted James by saying that he was only big and brave when in the company of the Murder Doll, so James had dismissed the bundle of trouble, pulled out his wand, and shot out the most colourful hexes Lily had ever heard of before they could even say "Mugblood". It was then, in that precise moment today, that I realised that things are different. That James is different. And that what I�ve felt and feel for him have always been different. He�s dear to me. More than myself. Hermione had chosen not to stop and comment this with Harry, and rushed on through the rest of the year, which had, obviously, been very stressful for Lily. She�d said that her new found feelings for James had brought her closer to him, but yet, at the same time, she felt immensely distant from him because of all the secrets he was keeping from her. She knew very well that her visions were a big chunk of his secrets, but she couldn�t quite decipher them yet, for she didn�t have the knowledge, despite the intense researches. By the time they�d reached the end of forth year, and Lily was describing her ride home it had been 3:30 am, yet neither Harry nor Hermione seemed to mind. Today, I have a lot to say. I just got home from King�s Cross, and Petunia is already on my back, but I don�t care. Yesterday, I did something completely outrageous that I thought I would never have the courage to do. Then again, I wasn�t sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, now did I? After the Leaving Feast (and I didn�t write this right away because I wasn�t sure if I could have handled my powers in the state I was in) I got my guts together, walked over to James before he went off with the rest of the Marauders and told him that I had to talk to him. He followed me right away, probably afraid that some other Slytherin needed a good butt kicking. Once we reached a dark hallway that always seems to be completely empty I turned around and�stared at him. I didn�t know what to say! He was obviously getting worried under my intense scrutiny of him, and I�m sure he couldn�t figure out what the thoughts running through my head might have been like. After all, even during these past six months since I realised what he meant, and still means, to me, I�m pretty sure I didn�t let it on much, and the only one to know is Jenna, and that is only because I told her. "Lily are you feeling well?" He asked me. God! How am I not supposed to love him the way I do when he looks at me from behind his glasses, all worried and caring and wonderful, and with that deep, deep voice that never fails in its attempt to turn me into a big puddle of quivering mush? He has such a beautiful speaking voice, always clear and cheerfully lilting (even when he�s not joking) and I love that in him, just as I love the rest of him, the good and the bad. "Lily?" Oh, he was really worried by that point and I was screaming to myself: �Answer him! Answer him, you dolt!� "I�" I started, but my voice was quivering. After clearing my throat I tried again. "I�never thanked you�properly�for helping me with those Slytherins at Christmas�or for all the other times that you helped me out�with anything. I guess I kind of always took you for granted," Jeez, it sounded like I was apologising for all my sins. And I was lying. Even though I had not realised my feelings sooner, I had always appreciated his constant presence. And I�d been stuttering, too. God! Was I obvious! But he was blushing! I couldn�t believe it. James Potter, known by the female Gryffindor population as "Mr. Suave", was blushing at my feeble attempts at thanking him. His hand found the back of his head the way it always did when he was nervous. I heard him clear his throat and, after what looked like a thorough selection of his words, said, "I�ve never felt as though I was taken from granted, Lily, by you most of all," if he�d heard the incessant squealing that was going on in my mind he would have probably asked how a Banshee found its way into Hogwarts. Well, even though he couldn�t hear the sound that my mind was producing, disturbing even to myself, I�m sure he didn�t miss the smile that had found its way onto my face and couldn�t seem to get lost. I�m sure it counted a minimum of sixty-seven teeth. "Really?" I know it sounded stupid but I couldn�t help but ask as I stepped closer to him. Dimly I realised that we were so close our toes were touching. He didn�t say anything, but he nodded stiffly. I don�t know if it was the fact that I was standing so close to him, or if it was the fact that, despite his way of speaking with the ladies was as smooth as it was, he�d never really had much of a romantic female contact with anyone before. Either way, I prayed that he wasn�t afraid of me. "Still," I heard myself say. When the heck did I start sounding so confident? Oh, what a load of codswallop was I dumping onto myself! "I feel like I still need to properly thank you," and then I really don�t know what possessed me, but I stepped up on my tiptoes and put my lips on his. At first he was shocked, and only kept his lips stiffly closed. I didn�t move until he responded. I honestly thought he would push me away. I expected to hear him say that he only thought of me as a good friend and nothing more, and I was already prepared for the worst, for his rejection. And then, his lips softened and started to massage mine. I felt his arms circling my waist, holding me closer to him, and then it was all a blur and I was nothing but a bundle of crazy, impossible emotions. I don�t know if James felt that when I kissed him, but I�d never felt that kind of bonding before. Jonathan had been my first boyfriend, but I�d had a couple of experiences with kisses before him, and they had honestly never felt like this. Maybe it was because we knew each other so well, and were so comfortable around each other, or maybe it was simply because I loved him, and love him all the more now. We met perfectly at every shift of our lips, clashing of tongues (I�m blushing just penning the words), beat of our hearts, and when we both, at the same time, parted for air, breathing heavily, I wished it had lasted longer, although in itself it had felt like an eternity. It had all been so perfect, that now that it was over, I was afraid. Scared to death. What if he�d only gone along with me? What if this feeling of perfection and deep connection was one sided? What if I looked in his eyes and saw confusion, fear�disgust even? No, I couldn�t look in his eyes. I disentangled my hands from his hair (when had they found their way there anyway?), and was about to step away from him. "Lily?" There it was again, that concerned voice. Jeez, I blew it! I ruined everything that our friendship stood for. "Lily," this time a statement, a bidding for me to look into his eyes, and I could never refuse him anything. I looked up. Yes, he was confused, and worried for me. He was always worried for me. And suddenly it didn�t matter anymore. It didn�t matter if he�d just kissed me back because he didn�t know what else to do, it didn�t matter if he didn�t love me, and, strangely enough, it didn�t matter if our friendship would change. He would always be James Potter, prankster and all around general good guy who stood by his friends no matter how many stupid things they did. He would always be James Potter, and I would always love him, and if he didn�t love me, I would at least have the memory of this perfect kiss we just shared. I don�t know how or why, but I smiled at him, and said "Thank you," one more time before walking away. And that was the last time I saw him. I�m sure Jenna noticed this, for today she helped me avoid the Marauders. We sat in our own cabin on the Express, and I told her what happened. She�s convinced I should have spoken to him, but my mind tells me that I have to give him time to figure this all out, so I�ll give it to him. I�ll give him a whole summer. And no matter what will happen when we come back to September, I�ll stand by him, and he by me. That much I�m certain of. Love Lily The tension in the Common Room was so palpable it could have been cut by a knife. The description of the kiss itself told little, but a fourteen year old in love usually didn�t have a clear enough mind to describe much of anything. Still, the intensity with which Lily loved James had been so strong, so�unwavering over the course of the year that it had been very hard for both Harry and Hermione to believe that she actually had been only fourteen at the time. Then again, when I realised everything I felt much the same way, Hermione reminded herself. The difference was that Lily had excepted it and welcomed it, while she had denied it and turned her back on it for far too long, and now there was hardly any chance for her. She felt the heat from Harry�s body, sitting next to hers, seeping into her flesh, making her aware of him in every way. His breath, his heartbeat (it was so quiet now she could even hear that), his presence. She didn�t know why, but she needed to look at him, guess what he was thinking. Her heart nearly burst out of its cage when she found him staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. His gaze was so full on confusion and longing that she felt a vice tightening around her heart. Oh, she wished so much that the longing was for her, and not for his parents! She turned to face him better and found her face mere centimetres from his. Her heart was now in her throat, making her breathing difficult. "Harry�"she managed to mumble, but even she didn�t hear her own voice, for how quietly it had escaped her lips. She wanted to be comforting to him, but all she managed to do was stare at him like some love sick puppy, wishing for him to kiss the same way his parents had kissed in the pages just read. She chastised herself for those thoughts, and closing her eyes she licked her lips before biting down on the lower one. Stop it, Hermione! You�re his best friend! Nothing more! But she still kept on hoping. Harry, seeing her bite that lovely full lower lip of hers had to suppress the urge to kiss her senseless. Stop staring at her! You�re scaring the living magic out of her! Look, she can�t even look you in the eye now! He was screaming all sort of things at himself, but a small part of his mind kept on pointing out that the way she�d read Lily�s words had seemed far too real, involved, as though she�d felt something all the like for a long time now, and some part of his heart kept rejoicing at the hope that he might have been the one to cause that. After all, she�d begun to convince him that Ron was nothing but a good friend to her, and it couldn�t have been Krum for she�d said that when dating him she thought of someone else. Was it horrible to hope that she�d been thinking about him? Oh, but she looked ever so inviting facing him with her eyes shut, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks, her teeth working her lower lip�and then she opened her eyes and looked at him. And they were both lost. Neither was sure who had initiated it, but sure enough, they found their mouths locking with each other, their lips slightly parted as they pressed gently against each other. It was a soft kiss, almost as though they were afraid of breaking each other, or waking up from the dream that they�d suddenly found themselves in. They�d stayed locked in that chaste kiss for a long time, but soon found the need to feel more of each other, make sure it was real. Hermione lifted her arms to touch his strong shoulders, the muscles tense beneath her finger, his large hands encircling her waist and holding her closer to him. Their mouths opened simultaneously and the kiss became deeper without losing any of its gentleness. Her head was swimming as Harry�s mouth made her lose any conscious thought, and all she was aware of was the fact that they were kissing, and it couldn�t have possibly been a dream for it was far too good and real. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her shirt, the silky strands of his messy hair tangling in her fingers, his tongue and lips meeting hers perfectly. No, dreams didn�t feel as good as this. Harry wasn�t aware of anything but Hermione. That must have been the reason why, after she moaned quietly into her mouth, he found the strength to break away from her. This was wrong. She was his best friend. And he was sure the only reason for which she�d kissed him back must have been the atmosphere that had created itself with his mother�s words. "Hermione, I�" how was he supposed to apologise? She looked so hurt at the moment. God, I�m such a stupid git! He screamed. I should have never kissed her, he was sure that she�d been hurt by his kiss. He�d taken advantage of a moment full of yearning, and he hoped she didn�t hate him. "I shouldn�t have done that. Sorry. I�I better go. I have�practice in three hours," he stumbled out, and got up to leave mumbling a good night without turning back to look at her. If he did, he might have just tried to kiss her pain away. And that would not have been a good thing to do. Hermione watched him go as she sat along by the dying fire, tears forming in her eyes as she clutched Lily�s diary to her heart. Their kiss had felt as perfect as theirs, so why was it that Harry had run away from her saying that it was a mistake. Because he thinks it was. �*� As Harry made his way down the dormitory stairs in full Quidditch gear a whole hour earlier than he was supposed to, he thought of good ways of avoiding Hermione throughout the day, unfortunately, that day they all had Duelling Training for most of the day with Dumbledore and Snape (he still couldn�t believe Dumbledore had been their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the past two years), so they would be training all day in the same room for hours, but maybe avoiding her wouldn�t be too hard for everybody from fourth year and up would be there as well. God, I�m such a prat! In the common room there was enough light to see by since the sun had begun to rise already, but he didn�t expect to see Hermione fast asleep in the same spot he left her. And most of all he didn�t expect to see her clutching the diary to herself while the dim sunlight glinted off the wet tracks that tears had left on her cheeks. Ok, he was officially the biggest prat ever to walk the Hogwarts� halls, and the guiltiest one at that. In her troubled sleep Hermione mumbled a word, or better a name. "Harry," was the soft whisper. Okay, now he was the guiltiest prat on the face of the planet. He couldn�t leave her there for the Gryffindor Quidditch team to come down and see her in her misery. Kneeling in front of her, he brought his lips close to her ear, and whispered, "Wake up, Hermione," but she didn�t rouse. He tried several more times, but she�d obviously cried herself to sleep and that must have exhausted her. Looking around to see if anybody might have seen him, he bent down, putting his arms under her waist and knees and hefted her light weight up, carrying up the stairs in the way Muggle man carry their new wives across the threshold. Of course, this would probably be the only time he would ever be able to do this with Hermione. All too soon he reached the portrait that led to her Head Girl�s room, and whispered the password. The portrait swung open and he entered the lovely room that had been Hermione�s new home since the year had started. Walking towards the bed, he gently lowered her onto the mattress, took off her shoes and cloak, and draped a warm blanket over her body to keep her warm. He should have left right away, he knew that, but he found himself unable to walk away from her sleeping form. Soon, he found himself caressing her hair away from her tearstained cheeks. He sighed deeply, and began to whisper to her what he knew he should have had the courage to say while she was awake. "I�m sorry, Hermione," he started, "I shouldn�t have done that, I ruined everything. I really hope you don�t hate me too much," he sighed again, and began to rub his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the trace of salty tears. "Kissing you�well, it was the worst thing I�ve ever done�but�I don�t know, it never felt so good�or right�to do the wrong thing," and then he leaned over to place a feather light kiss on her forehead, one on each of her eyes, drying her wet lashes, and then, almost not touching at all, he ever so gently placed his lips over hers. "I hope I didn�t lose you," his voice was catching in his throat now. "You and Ron are the most important things in my life. I love you," he finished in the faintest of whispers. Leaning over, he kissed her lips once more, just as lightly as before, and, after memorising her sleeping face, walked back out of the bedroom, into the Common Room to retrieve his Firebolt from where he left it, and headed out to the Gryffindor Memory Garden to work off the emotional stress that he�d manage to work himself into. Meanwhile, in the Head Girl�s room, fresh tears managed to work their way down Hermione�s cheeks. To be continued. Coming next chapter: -Krista asks Ron to Hogsmeade -Coming back to 5th Lily finds out about her visions being true -Harry and Hermione talk about her past relationship with Krum and her insecurities Author�s notes: Well, like I said that was a load of crappy, fluffy mush, but I really enjoyed writing it, and I hoped you liked reading it, and even if you didn�t remember to leave a review or email me at [email protected]. Flames excepted. Go ahead, I like BBQs. Pearl Drop Angel |