A/N: I'm like in a Harry Potter fix right now, haha. Don't be surprised to see another oneshot posted on here in the wee hours of the morning...

Summary: An extremely awkward moment between Harry and Hermione ensues. This takes place (maybe) around sixth year. No spoilers, really.

Disclaimer: If I was J.K. Rowling...

And we're off!

You step quietly down the stairs, annoyed all to pieces that Fred wants to go ahead of you, claiming that Katie might be there. Granted, you know that he's be crushing on her dreadfully ever since first year, but you fold anyways, quite aware that it doesn't make a bloody difference to her seeing as you look exactly like Fred. "It's two in the morning," you hiss between clenched teeth.


"And...now she's a vampire?" you asked, irked to be pulled out of bed in the dreaded hours the night only to sneak into Hogwarts and surprise the living shit out of people who aren't expecting you. "You know," you add for good measure, "we dropped out of this place for a reason."

"You don't think it'd be neat?"

"Sure it'd be neat--!"

"Keep your voice down, you dimwit..." Fred interrupts, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

"—if people were actually awake," you add, feeling ridiculous.

"Shut up," he says for the billionth time, tip-toeing through the portrait hole, the Fat Lady recognizing you but not registering the fact that you and your twin haven't been in the building for several months. Suddenly, he clamps his hand over your mouth.

"What?" you garble through his fingers. Fred drags you into a dark corner.

"Oi," you grumble, "This is a splendid time to pull a Voldemort."

You can dimly see his eyes roll in the dark and can smell the outstanding fact that he hasn't brushed his teeth lately. "Look," he says, pointing to two figures sitting in front of a roaring fire, perched in their separate, overly stuffed armchairs.

"It's not Katie," you whisper, rattling off a list, "or Ron or Ginny or—"

Your brow furrows.

"It's Harry and Hermione," you and Fred say at the same time.

"We should go say hey."

"No!" Fred practically tackles you, keeping you hidden in the shadows, "They're talking."


"I have this theory..."

"Oh, not your dratted theo—"

Harry's voice rings in you ears, "Do you hear something?" he asks, turning his head towards your hiding place.

Hermione shakes her head, "No...no, I don't. You better not be hearing voices again," she jokes.

Both you and Fred close your traps and watch, stunned.


The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, laughs at her joke, "Umbridge is haunting the walls..."

"Lord, that lady gave me the damn creeps..."

"She's gone now..."

Hermione's brow perks, "Debatably." She then stands up, straightening out her skirt. "It's late, Harry, I should—"


Fred grins, elbowing you in the ribs, "I was right."

"Twisted fuck..." you mutter.


He just looks at her, his hands in his pockets when she stops in the middle of her sentence. "What's wrong?" she asks, confused.

"It—" he runs his fingers through his messy hair, "—it's Ginny..." he mumbles, wandering off when he says her name.

Hermione's face softens, "Harry, I'm sorry."

"I dunno, it's like all of a sudden..."

"She's been after you since she was ten." She bites her bottom lip. "I think she got tired of waiting."

"I feel terrible."

"Why? Because she's with Dean now?"

When she takes a step towards him, reaching for his hand, he jerks back, "Ron," he says.

"Ron'd be angry if you were having at it with his sister, too."


"I like Harry, personally," you interject.

Fred glares at you. "My theory?"

Grumbling, you brace yourself.


"You know what?" Hermione says, turning away from him. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry grabs her shoulder before she encounters the steps up to her dormitory, "Hermione, wait—"

"What?" she asks, aggravated. He slides his hand down her arm and around her back. "Oh," she mumbles. "Shit."


"It's alri—"

"What abou--?"

The step closer, her finger is hooked into the belt loop of his pants. "You—" she breathes before their lips meet in a kiss.

It lingers for a bit before Harry reaches up, this thumb grazing her jaw line as she leans into it, her fingers white knuckling the inch of fabric in her grasp—

They abruptly break apart.


"Harry, don—"

"I'm sorry, I-I—"


Fred whistles softly. "Awkward."

"It was your theory," you say, pointing out the obvious.

"Well, I had no idea—"

"That they're as compatible as a Pygmy Puff and a Blast-ended Skrewt?"

He shakes his head. "I just find it so hard to believe..."

"Does it make you feel better that that's the way Harry's gonna snog our sister?"

"Like a pansy?" Fred blanches.

You swear simultaneously.

"Ooh, they're walking away now," whisper, pointing.

"Good," Fred says, his face relaxing. "They can save us from all of that pain."

As Harry walks up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, you can hear him say under his breath, "Those damn Weasleys..." You know that he's talking about his predicament with both Ron and Ginny, but you just can't help beaming at Fred.

"You've got that right..." both you and your twin brother say it at the same time.