Hello, I'm NoahWaters (all one word, please) and this is my first fanfic, so please be gentle with your criticisms. This is H/Hr and takes place in late fifth year. This is sort of a 'what if' about Harry being Voldemort's "mood aerial" as JK so succinctly puts it. This may be a two-shot, possibly three. I don't know, I'm winging it. Anyway, enjoy!

Oh, right. Disclaimer. ahem Just about everything is JK's. The only the thing that's mine is the situation that I put poor Harry in.

Chapter One: Peculiar Feelings from the Dark Lord

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione's concerned voice said softly. Harry opened his eyes. He had had them screwed shut at the pain that was shooting through his scar, accompanied by a twinge of happiness. Again, a small taste of the current disposition of Lord Voldemort. They were getting much more frequent nowadays, courtesy of Occlumency lessons with Snape, the most recent of which just ended an hour ago. He was now in the library with Hermione, working on a Potions essay, ironically enough. Ron was at Quidditch practice.

"Nothing's wrong, Hermione," Harry lied, perhaps a little too quickly.

"You're lying to me Harry," Hermione said simply. "Is it your scar again?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "Another Voldemort mood swing."

"Ooh, what's he feeling now?" said Ron's unmistakable voice from behind Harry. He turned and saw Ron standing sopping wet, having just returned from practice. "Wait, let me guess. Is he pissed about something? That seems about right for You-Know-Who."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, only to be shushed by Madam Pince. She continued in an angry hiss. "It's not a game! This is serious." She turned to Harry. "Harry, you should go to Dumbledore—"

"No." Harry said sharply. "It's nothing." This was why he didn't want to tell Hermione in the first place. She would tell him to go to the headmaster and the last thing he wanted to do was go see Dumbledore after having been cold-shouldered by him for nearly a year.

"Okay, annoyance?" Ron guessed, oblivious to Harry and Hermione's conversation, and merely trying to guess at whatever mood Voldemort was in.

"Ron, SHUT UP!" Hermione yelled, summoning Madam Pince to kick all three of them out of the library.

"I will not have you disturbing students who are actually trying to work!" she scolded as she ushered them from the library. Hermione and Ron bickered the whole way to dinner, but Harry was too distracted to even pay attention. He was trying to decipher the feeling he had gotten from Voldemort. It had been happy, he knew that, but it was a strange, different kind of happiness than sadistic pleasure from a no doubt evil plot. It was…different. He glanced out the window. Rain was falling in sheets outside on the already sopping grounds. He wondered just how much water the soil could hold. It was probably enchanted somehow to hold an endless amount. Suddenly, his scar began searing again and he stopped, leaning against the wall and screwing his eyes shut. He was overcome with one of the most peculiar feelings he or Voldemort had ever felt so far.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice said from right in front of him. "Are you okay? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry opened his eyes and met Hermione's eyes cinnamon-brown eyes, now full of concern, and felt a whole lot of his blood head south of the border. He wanted nothing more than to grab Hermione by the shoulders and snog her senseless right in the middle of the hallway.

Wait, what the hell am I thinking? Harry told himself. These feelings had come out of nowhere.

"I'm fine Hermione," he said, standing up and brushing her aside. "Just…need to rest. I'll be in the common room."

"What about dinner?" Ron asked, his mind on the one thing that seemed to ever matter to him.

"Not hungry!" Harry called, already halfway to a secret passage he knew led to the Fat Lady's portrait. He whipped aside a tapestry and began climbing a flight of stairs, his mind reeling.

"What in the name of Merlin was that?" he muttered to himself. He had honestly felt like he wanted to shag Hermione right there. Not only were these feelings unusual for him (Merlin forbid Harry Potter should ever be so forward) but this was Hermione! She was one if his best friends. It would be so…awkward. He tried to think about what could have prompted such a drastic mood swing. His mind sprang instantly to Voldemort. But why would the Dark Lord be feeling such lustful feelings? And why did they have to come at such an inconvenient time? Now he couldn't stop thinking about Hermione in ways no friend should think about someone.

"Something on your mind?" the Fat Lady asked as Harry approached her portrait.

"You have no idea," Harry replied. "Mimbulus mimbletonia."

The Fat Lady swung forward, and Harry climbed through, walking over to his favorite armchair by the fire. He dropped his school bag nearby and decided to work on his Potions essay. Yeah, Potions and Snape would be the perfect things to get his mind off of Hermione and his…urges. He sat down, got out his quill and ink and his half-finished essay, pulled a table to him, and set to work. Half an hour later he had succeeded in dripping every last drop of ink from his quill onto the parchment, creating a very large and interestingly shaped inkblot. He got out his wand and muttered a spell that Hermione had taught him for just such an occasion. Running his wand over the parchment to siphon away the ink, his thoughts drifted back to Hermione (damn it) and he found himself thinking about her eyes. She really did have beautiful eyes. They were so brown and bright and showed so much emotion—

"No!" he scolded himself, putting his wand away. He heard a gasp and saw two second-years sitting in a corner, whispering to each other. Great, he thought. Now people are gonna say Crazy Potter is talking to himself. Just what I need. He let his head drop to the table and laid there for about five minutes before he heard an angelic voice.


Harry sat up rather fast and met Hermione's eyes. He quickly looked away before he could get totally entranced by them.

"Harry, is something wrong?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the arm of his chair and crossing one leg over the other. Her school skirt rode up her leg a little and it was very near Harry. He quickly tore his eyes away from this and looked up at her.

"Everything's fine, Hermione," Harry said, trying his best to keep his voice even. When did Hermione start smelling so good? Like a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla.

"You seemed pretty shaken back in the hallway," Hermione said, placing a hand on his forehead to check for a fever. Harry jumped at the contact and stood up. "What is wrong with you today?"

"Nothing," Harry said, looking anywhere but Hermione, lest he be trapped by those eyes. "I think I'm gonna turn in."

"It's only eight o'clock," Hermione said, her brow furrowed in suspicion.

"I'm really tired," Harry lied, rushing to the sanctity of the boy's dormitories and his four-poster. He decided he could use a shower before bed and climbed in, turning the water on cold to calm his libido. He put on his pajama pants and a tank top and climbed into bed. His dreams were filled with visions of Hermione and he kept feeling that same lustful feeling that he had felt in his last encounter with Voldemort's mood.

Harry awoke the next morning feeling rested and slightly bittersweet about the fact that at least he wasn't dreaming of the Department of Mysteries or the graveyard. Of course, now he wouldn't be able to look Hermione in the eyes without turning crimson. He climbed out of bed and took another cold shower, thought he didn't really need to cleanse himself (not physically, anyway). The rest of his dorm mates were taking advantage of the fact that it was Saturday and sleeping in. Harry was always an early riser thanks to the Dursley's insistence that he be the one to make breakfast on Saturday morning. At the thought of breakfast, his stomach made a very interesting noise. He realized he hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day and decided to head to the Great Hall for a bite.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny greeted Harry as he sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall about ten minutes later.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry said, sitting across from her. He reached for some eggs and hashed browns (A/N: are they called that in Britain?) and piled them on his plate distractedly, his mind elsewhere.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked him as Harry brought a forkful of eggs to his mouth and missed by about three inches. "Something on your mind?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, actually getting the fork in his mouth this time.

"You're the youngest Seeker in a century and you can't even hit your mouth with your fork on the first try today," Ginny said. "Something's up."

"First of all, you're the Seeker now," Harry said, taking another bite of egg, "and second, nothing's wrong." At that moment, Harry looked up and nearly choked on his food. Hermione had walked in (damn her for being an early bird) and, though Harry knew she had not changed since yesterday, he couldn't help but stare at her.

"Ohh," Ginny's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "I think I understand it, now. Finally caught on, have you?"

"Caught on to what?" Harry asked, his eyes following Hermione's progress.

"The fact that Hermione is a girl," Ginny said, smirking in a not un-Malfoy-like way. "Took you long enough."

At that moment it all clicked into place for Harry. How had he not seen it? Hermione was a girl! Of the female persuasion! He watched her as she spotted Harry and Ginny (Harry looked away as their eyes met) and made her way over to them. Harry panicked. He had to get out of there. If he stayed, he would definitely just make a fool of himself (or end up trying something that would get him hexed). Hermione sat next to him and his nostrils were assaulted by that intoxicating scent of vanilla and cinnamon again. What was that shampoo? Resisting the urge to grab a handful of Hermione's hair and sniff it (she probably wouldn't like that) he shook himself back to reality.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong?"

"Uh," Harry stammered. "I just remembered I haven't finished my…Potions essay. Better go do that, don't want to put it off. Bye."

With that he rushed off, leaving a bewildered Hermione and a hysterical Ginny.

Well, what do you think? Harry's had an epiphany with some help from Ginny and Hermione's freakin' confused! Stay tuned for chapter two in which Harry is confronted by Ron (though not in the violent, jealous way). Sorry if the ending is a little abrupt, but is was the best place I could find.

Please review!