Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his world. I just play with them sometimes, but I always put them back where I found them.

A/N: I don't know if there's anyone even reading this anymore, it's been so long since I've posted. I'm very sorry for how long it's been, but I'm sure we all understand how crazy life gets. Working more than full time and going to school certainly takes its toll on my free time for writing. I genuinely don't know when the next chapter of this or BtD will be posted, but please know I am constantly working on both of them, even if you don't see the results right away.

~% %~

Hermione's heart was racing frantically as the Gryffindor players left the Quidditch pitch for the privacy of the locker room, and she doubted very much that house spirit was entirely to blame. Ginny didn't reappear from the locker room, and so Hermione was unsure how to proceed.

Beginning her way down the steps, she realized that not only was she following the path made by her lit wand, but she had called forth the light non-verbally, and without really thinking about it or deciding to do so. It was a small victory against non-verbal spells, but a victory nonetheless. She saw adults in the magical world flicking their wands thoughtlessly to make the simplest day-to-day things happen, and realized that she was on the way to becoming a real adult witch.

She didn't want to loiter outside the players' door and wait for them to finish, but it was dark enough by then that she didn't really want to go back to the castle on her own. She had nearly steeled herself to just buck up and walk back past the blackened forest and up to the dark and looming castle doors when Ginny appeared around a corner coming up the stairs, looking rather flushed.

"Hallo," she panted. "I just wanted to let you know that…well, that he came to watch practice tonight, and after Harry's done with the team meeting, we're going to head off for…for some private time, if you know what I mean." She winked. "Anyway, we won't be long at all, but I was hoping you could maybe wait for me in the locker room? It's nice and warm in there, and then we don't have to walk back on our own after?"

"Oh, of course," Hermione nodded, pleased to have a solution.

"Great, thanks so much Hermione!" Ginny ran up the stairs to give her a quick hug. She had disappeared back round the corner before it occurred to Hermione that she didn't know what to do with herself until the team meeting was over.

She wandered down onto the Quidditch pitch, taking a moment to marvel at the size of the field. Standing in the center, looking up at the goalposts, the field seemed so much larger than it ever did from the stands. Hermione tried to imagine what it must feel like to be riding high above this green grass, playing such an exhilarating sport. Or at least, what Harry, Ron, and so many others thought was so exhilarating. For herself, Hermione had always found flying to be one of the most terrifying things she had done at Hogwarts, including the time she had accidentally added cat hair to her Polyjuice Potion.

Watching Harry practice with the other Gryffindors had been thrilling, almost as exciting as a watching a real match. It didn't matter that she wasn't particularly fond of Quidditch; it was obviously the players that had her more interested in the sport at the moment. Or more specifically, she reminded herself, the player. There was no question that she had barely paid attention to anyone who wasn't within ten paces of Harry for the entire time they had been in the air.

~% %~

After their wildly productive practice, the Gryffindor team filed back into the locker rooms, whooping and cheering themselves. Harry brought up the rear, grinning from ear to ear in pride for how well the evening had gone. They had spent all the daylight they had running drills in small groups, and Harry was confident that they would carry this momentum through the entire Quidditch season and celebrate another Gryffindor victory in the Quidditch Cup.

He kept his post-practice speech short, not wanting to put a damper on their enthusiasm with a long-winded lecture. He tried his best to keep it upbeat, using the excitement in the air to power them through a quick plan for the season. They established that they would have practices every Saturday morning that he could book the stadium, and as many as twice a week until their first match, which would be in three weeks, against Slytherin. Ginny showed up a few minutes into the speech, mentioning something vague about having asked Hermione to wait for them to finish up, but everyone's moods were too high to be overly concerned with her tardiness.

When he dismissed them, the other players changed quickly out of their Quidditch robes, leaving them in the bin that would be emptied later by the Hogwarts house elves and tucking their school brooms into the broom shed that Harry had opened for them. Ron helped him drag the trunk of practice equipment back into the broom shed, and Harry locked the door, tucking the keys carefully into his pocket.

"Want help with the benches?" Ron offered, nodding to the long wooden stacks on the wall.

"I'll take care of it." Though he and Ron had seemed at least amiable through practice, there was still a tension between them, and Harry had reached a point where he just needed to be away from that kind of unpleasantness.

What he really wanted, he thought idly to himself, was a few moments alone with Hermione. After such an excellent practice, he wasn't focused on the physical aspect, but more on just having her there to quietly celebrate this small bit of success. Of course, it would also be nice if he could pin her against the concrete wall and snog for a few hours.

He was interrupted from his less-than-chivalrous line of thought by Ginny, who had poked her head back into the locker room from behind the separating wall. It was an almost comical sight, and one that reminded him strongly of Fred and George, as her angle into the room was so severe she had wrapped one arm around the stone barrier in front of her to keep from falling over. There was something else about her pose that reminded him of something, but he was stopped from pondering too hard on what it was by her much more interesting news.

"Hermione's on her way down," she said breathlessly. "Michael came to watch, and I'll be a bit with him. I told her to wait here for me so we could walk back up together after he goes back up to the castle. Is that alright?"

"Sure," he replied good-naturedly, thinking privately that that sounded like the perfect way to end the evening. "Want me to wait to walk both of you back?"

"That would be lovely!" she called as she spun suddenly back around the corner, giggling, and he had a distinct impression that Michael Corner had just pulled her out the door behind him. He hadn't remembered seeing Corner in the stands, he mused idly, but then again, he had to admit that most of his attention had been focused on the practice, and anything left over, on Hermione.

Shaking his head at antics he knew Ginny would not have pulled had her over-protective brother been around, Harry began moving the benches back into place. He was down to the last two when the door creaked open, and a timid voice echoed through the room.

"Hello?" Even though he had been expecting her to appear, his heart leapt at her awaited arrival.

"Hello," he responded brightly, reaching for another bench. "Come on in."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said in surprise as she rounded the corner. Despite their comfort together earlier that day, neither was entirely sure what do say or do when they were alone, and if there was someone else in the room, Hermione didn't want to risk saying something to give them away. She watched as Harry placed the final bench in its position on the floor, before saying carefully, "I didn't think there was anyone else in here."

He smirked at her, something she found surprisingly attractive, and replied, "Well, technically speaking, there's not."

His meaning was quite clear, and she went to him at once, his arms open just the slightest in invitation. As he had been earlier in the day, Harry was strong with her, unconcerned that she might reject him, and a small part of her whispered that men were always more confident after something important goes particularly well for them.

Mostly, she ignored that silly little piece of herself and allowed the tingling sensation of desire to creep across her skin as his lips moved against hers. The Quidditch robes were heavy and scratchy beneath her fingers, and she realized distantly that she must have grasped them in her hands at some point.

Harry smelled so strongly of sweat and grass and pure, unadulterated masculinity that she thought she might swoon. The dark spicy scent she had come to associate with him filled every pore of her skin, wrapping around her like a quiet, personal storm.

After playing Captain for the past several hours, Harry couldn't help but take charge with Hermione, too. His hands gripped her waist tightly, pulling her as close as he could manage, though a part of him knew that skin contact was what he really desired. So without really stopping to think about it, he shucked off his heavy Quidditch robes to bring her that millimeter closer. Flashes of their nude bodies pressed together came to mind, and he unthinkingly groaned into her kiss at the thought.

Rather than frighten her off, however, Hermione seemed spurred on by the sound he was making, and in fact let loose a small sigh of her own against his lips. He led them back the short distance to the wall at his back so he could lean against it. He spread his legs just a bit to lessen the height difference, which Hermione took as an invitation.

Stepping into the space between Harry's legs, Hermione found herself able to reach his mouth without standing on tip-toe, a much more enjoyable experience, she thought. Not having to think about her balance left her heated mind free to suggest that now might be a good time to tangle her hands in Harry's dark hair.

Harry could feel a familiar heat gathering in his limbs and coursing steadily toward his stomach. He knew that things were getting a bit too intense, a bit too heated for him to handle, but he didn't want to give up this moment with Hermione.

The way her hand was stretched through his hair, alternately tugging at the longer hairs and petting gently against the shorter ones at the nape of his neck; the way her body arched into his, seeming to fit perfectly in that gap that he had created between his feet; the angle of their mouths that allowed his tongue to flick gently just behind her teeth and make her make those lovely soft noises. He was quite certain that this was absolute perfection, right here where they were. If they moved, even a bit, he was afraid that they would never find this perfect position ever, ever again.

His body, it seemed, agreed completely.

All too soon, he found himself tearing away from her wonderful orange blossom lips with a ragged breath. As much as it pained him to do it, Harry pushed her away gently, gripping her forearms to keep her at arms' length.

"Wha…?"

Her eyes were glazed over slightly, and she seemed more surprised than upset over the sudden halt in their activities.

"Harry, what is it?"

It seemed to Harry that she must never have said his name out loud before, or if she had, he had not been listening at all. Because the small movements in her lips as she whispered his name had his mind positively reeling. The beauty of his name in that tone on Hermione's lips was too much for him to process.

It took a moment before he remembered that she had, in fact, asked him a question, and he fumbled for a response. "Ginny," he grunted.

"Yes, what about her?"

"She's supposed to come back and meet us here, isn't she?"

"Oh," she sighed, realizing his point. "Yes, I suppose she will be back soon enough. But…we can hear anyone coming in, can't we?"

As always, Hermione made a good point, but Harry knew if he pulled her back into his arms and took up where they had left off, he would be nearly guaranteed to humiliate himself.

"It's been a bit already though, hasn't it?" he asked, sounding a bit pathetic even to himself. "She should have been back by now. Maybe we should go look for her. You know, just in case."

Harry secretly thought to himself that Ginny would probably kill him if they interrupted her tryst with Michael Corner just to drag her back up to the castle, but Ginny's wrath seemed perfectly acceptable when compared to the possible embarrassment he and Hermione would both have to endure if they continued on and were caught.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione nodded her agreement and made to right her clothes, blushing a bit when she saw Harry bend to retrieve his heavy Quidditch robes from where they had been left to pool on the floor.

She followed him out the door, blinking into the sudden darkness as he turned to lock the door behind them.

"Ginny?" Harry called, already feeling stupid for suggesting this.

"She'll be quite furious if we interrupt them, you know," Hermione whispered.

"I know," he said with a sigh. "But it's getting cold, and we really ought to be getting back before anyone gets suspicious, don't you think?"

"Yes."

Harry took a moment to enjoy the disappointment obvious in her voice before beginning to walk away, having come to a decision. "Let's take a round about the Quidditch pitch, then go round near the edge of the forest. If she's not there, they're probably hidden too well for us to find."

"She's not likely to be nearby, do you think?" Hermione said softly.

"No, probably not," he said lightly. "But it's as good an excuse as any for a nighttime stroll, don't you think?" As they rounded the first curve of the massive stadium, the moonlight illuminated a hundred yard stretch with no one to be seen, so glancing over his shoulder, Harry reached over to twine his fingers into Hermione's.

"Yes, it is." She drifted closer to him until their arms brushed with every step, and they quickly fell into matching step together. "So where do you suppose they ran off to?"

"Mm, I expect she'll be…er…" He turned to Hermione, suddenly out of his element. "Er…where is it students go, to…?"

Hermione herself looked taken aback. "Well, I suppose…I suppose I don't know, really. I thought you'd have been…somewhere with—with Cho, or-or someone else."

Harry chuckled quietly, glancing at her in the dark. In the moon-bleached landscape, he could just make out a delicate blush rising across her cheeks. "No, Hermione," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "It's only been you."

Hermione grinned to herself, ducking her head so he could not see how pleased this made her. "Well then," she said, fighting to control her incessant grin. "I suppose perhaps a classroom? Though she wouldn't go inside if she were coming to meet us here," she added thoughtfully.

"Where would you go?" Harry asked suddenly. He surprised himself with his boldness, but found himself burning to know her answer. "The forest?"

She shuddered and looked at him, aghast. "Full of bugs, and snakes and—and werewolves?"

"Alright, I suppose not," he conceded. "Where then?"

"Well," she mused, Harry's favorite furrow appearing on her brow. "It would have to be somewhere relatively remote, or at least a place where few people have access. And somewhere separated from the common areas of the castle would be a good idea, as well. Perhaps even a room that not many people know exists. So I suppose something like the Prefects' bathroom, or the Room of Requirement."

"That's awfully naughty of you," Harry said cheekily. As soon as it was out, his eyes widened in shock; he hadn't really said that aloud, had he? He opened his mouth to form a hasty apology, but Hermione was laughing lightly.

"Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?"

Well, that hadn't been the reaction he'd expected. She didn't sound offended or disgusted at all by his unintentionally suggestive comment. In fact, she'd seemed…amused? Impressed he'd noticed? Eager to try her own suggestions?

He pulled himself from his latest round of unbidden fantasies to realize that Hermione was talking enthusiastically about the night's Quidditch practice. They struck up conversation as easily as they always had, dropping their hands by mutual unspoken decision as they rounded the last curve of the stadium, bringing the castle back into view.

"She'll probably have gone back up to the castle by now," Hermione said regretfully. It took Harry a moment to remember that the initial—though somewhat transparent—purpose of the walk had been to look for Ginny.

"If anyone asks, we can say we were looking for her and didn't know she'd gone back up," he offered playfully.

"Don't you still have homework to finish tonight?" she asked in her typical fashion.

He sighed. "Yes, and I've not started a bit of it, either. I suppose we should go back."

"I don't want to," she whispered as they neared the castle. "I want to stay out here, in the dark, where no one can see us."

"So do I Hermione," he said quietly. "So do I."

~% %~

When they arrived in the Gryffindor common room, both Harry and Hermione expected to see Ginny sitting in one of the plush armchairs, or perhaps doing homework at a table, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione glanced around with a vague sense of worry and said, "Perhaps she's gone to bed?"

"Perhaps," Harry replied doubtfully. "It is a bit late. Why don't you go and check, and I'll ask Ron?"

They parted ways, and Harry went to the table where Ron was sitting with Dean and Seamus. Ron watched his approach with a visibly irritated expression, and Harry knew that Ron, at least, suspected exactly where he and Hermione had been. He was grateful, however, that the redhead said nothing aloud to betray his emotions, though Harry didn't push it so far as to sit with the three other boys.

"Have you seen Ginny?" he asked her older brother without pretense.

"Not since practice, why?" Ron replied, obviously surprised by what Harry had had to say.

"She told Hermione she would meet her after—after practice," he said, deciding not to tell Ron about the interlude she'd planned with Michael Corner. "But she never arrived. Hermione and I were looking for her—" He chose to ignore Ron's disbelieving glance. "—and we didn't see her anywhere around the pitch, or on the way back to the castle."

"She's not upstairs," came Hermione's breathless voice from behind him, "and no one's seen her since before Quidditch. You don't suppose something's happened to her, do you? Maybe she got lost? Or perhaps she fell and—and hit her head?"

"I'm sure she's fine, Hermione," Ron said calmly, though Harry saw him glancing worriedly between the clock and the portrait hole through which his only sister ought to already have arrived.

"Do you think we ought to tell Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked cautiously.

"But if she's just still out, we'll get her in trouble," Hermione added doubtfully. "It's past curfew."

"If she's not back by midnight," Ron said decisively, "I'll go find McGonagall."

So Harry went upstairs to fetch his bookbag, settling down uncomfortably beside Ron, as was his habit. Hermione arrived moments later with a large, tattered old book and returned to a previously marked page to continue reading. All three alternated between concentration and nervous glances at the grandfather clock as the minutes until midnight steadily ticked away.

Hermione jumped slightly at the first chime of midnight, and all three looked up expectantly at the portrait hole.

As if on cue, the threshold slid open, though stepping through the portrait hole was a couple, both in their seventh year, who seemed equal parts surprised and suspicious to find the Golden Trio of Gryffindor apparently watching their entrance with such fixation.

"We'll give her five more minutes," Ron said resolutely when no one else spoke.

"Five more minutes," Hermione muttered in agreement. Personally, she thought the time for action had passed, but Ron was hardly in a state to have his judgment questioned.

Barely a minute had passed from this exchange when a small voice at Hermione's side timidly pulled her away from her Transfiguration studies.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Ginny, where did you run off to?" Ron demanded of his sister, looking up from his own assignment to glare at her where she stood awkwardly by Hermione's shoulder, idly rubbing her left arm in embarrassment. The people nearby looked up in surprise, having expected the next Weasley outburst to be once again directed at Harry.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked Hermione worriedly, ignoring her brother entirely. "I'm having trouble with a bit of Potions homework, and I was hoping you could maybe help me?"

"Sure," she replied. It seemed odd to Harry that Ginny would return from a midnight rendezvous with Michael Corner, only to bury herself in homework, but Hermione thought nothing of a student seeking her help with an assignment in any course. "Where are your books?"

"I've got them here," she replied, lifting her book bag slightly off her shoulder. "Can we go over here, though, where it's a bit warmer?"

Ginny gestured to an empty table several feet closer to the fireplace, and Hermione followed her suggestion. Ron did not comment, or watch them go suspiciously. He dropped the subject with a bit of a grumble, turning back to his Divination homework. Harry, having visually inspected Ginny and found no outward sign of damage, had already buried himself in the chapter on trances he had skipped reading before the previous Divination lesson. Dean and Seamus hadn't been paying attention to most of the exchange regarding Ginny anyway, and were distracting themselves from homework with the puzzles from the back page of the Evening Prophet.

In fact, no one seemed to take notice of the fact that Hermione had dropped what she was doing to help Ginny with her homework.

The girls paused and looked at each other, clearly thinking the same thoughts.

"Arithmancy," Hermione said quietly, after a few moment's pause.

"Divination," Ginny agreed. A grin worthy of the Cheshire cat spread across her face, and she quickly added, "But this time, I really do need your help."

~% %~

A/N: Since its original posting just over three years ago, this story has received over 70,000 hit on this website. That just blows my mind, so thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who sits around waiting for me to keep writing, and for all the new readers we pick up with each chapter! Even when I haven't updated in months, I still get new story alert emails, letting me know that one more person wants to keep reading what I have to say. And in an anonymous online format, that is just such a huge compliment!

So thank you to everyone who reads, and reviews, and lets me know in whatever way that my story means anything to you, because you all mean so much to me ^_^

Rock on, keep reading, and as always, review!

cj596