Fulfilling Obligations (Harmione)

Chapter 6: Second Fiddle

Once McGonagall's cloak had swished around the corner, Harry entered the bathroom, aching to finally have a soak in warm, soapy water. Glancing around him, he was pleased to see that it had been completely unaffected by the war. The only difference that he could tell was that the mermaid in the painting on the wall seemed much more perturbed than usual.

Harry went immediately over to the tub and turned on the faucet, and after choosing a multitude of bubbles in varying shapes, sizes, and colors, went over to the corner where the towels were kept. After selecting one, he turned around to walk back to the tub, only to leap back as he came face-to-face with Moaning Myrtle.

"Myrtle!" Harry yelped in a not-so-manly voice. "What in the bloody hell?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," Myrtle said with a sniff. "I didn't frighten you, did I?"

"No," Harry said sarcastically. "I usually jump a foot in the air and raise my voice about ten octaves when I greet someone."

"Well, there's no need to get snippy," Myrtle huffed, crossing her ghostly arms. "I was only saying hello."

"It's alright," Harry grumbled. "I should've known you'd be here anyway. At least your timing was better than it might've been. Where have you been, anyway? I didn't see you at the battle."

"Well, of course you didn't! A ghost wouldn't be of much use on the battlefield, now would they?"

"I suppose not. Er, Myrtle, if you hadn't noticed, I was sort of in the middle of -"

"Taking a bath?" Myrtle said knowledgeably.

"Yeah. So if you wouldn't mind, I'd sort of like to get on with that."

"Fine! If you don't appreciate my company, I'll just leave!" Myrtle said, her voice choked with tears. She then spun around and ran (or rather, floated quickly) through the wall of the bathroom, her face in her hands. Harry heard the mermaid in the painting giggle.

Harry shook his head as he made his way to the tub. I spoke to her for less than a minute and she still left in a tizzy.

He paused.

Tizzy?

Shaking his head, he twisted at a variety of knobs until the water and bubbles came to a stop. He then gave the bathroom one last lookover to ensure that Moaning Myrtle had indeed left the vicinity, and quickly stripped off his clothes before slipping into the soapy tub.

He moaned at the delightful feeling of the warm water on his body, and sank down into the bath until the bubbles reached his neck. Resting his head on the edge of the tub, he closed his suddenly heavy lids, and before long he drifted off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry awoke in a haze of darkness. Blinking wearily, he saw that a torch in each corner of the room was now burning amiably, casting the walls and floor in a warm, comforting glow.

Surprisingly, the water was still warm, and Harry proceeded to scrub at the grime that had accumulated on his body, which took a rather long (and revolting) amount of time. After he had finished rinsing out his hair, he stepped out of the tub and toweled himself off, gratified by the feeling of his now clean skin.

Throwing on his clothes once more, he left the bathroom and began walking slowly along the dimly lit corridor. As he passed a window, he peered out at the grounds: the sky was already dark and filled with stars. His nap had clearly lasted much longer than he had anticipated.

Knowing he had nowhere else to go, Harry trudged back up to the common room, unsure if he would prefer someone to be awake or everyone to have gone to bed.

But as he entered the portrait hole (with no password, thankfully) and was met by the sight of a pajama-clad Hermione reading on the sofa, he knew he preferred the former option.

"Harry!" Hermione looked up when he plopped himself next to her, jostling her and her book. Crookshanks-who had remained with Ginny during the war and who Harry had just noticed on Hermione's lap-was also jostled and looked at Harry indignantly. "What took you so long? It's nine o' clock!"

"Sorry," Harry said, sheepishly rubbing at the nape of his hair, still damp from his bath. "I sort of fell asleep again."

"Another nap?" Hermione said, smiling incredulously. "One wasn't enough?"

"I guess not," Harry said, grinning as well. He reached over and gave Crookshanks an apologetic pat on the head.

"Well, it's alright. Everyone's already gone to bed, but I saved you something from dinner," Hermione said, gesturing towards the table behind her, where a plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans sat, still steaming from what could only be a heating charm.

"No treacle tart?" Harry said, and earned himself a dirty look from Hermione. "I mean, 'thanks so much, Hermione. Don't know what I would do without you.'"

Hermione nodded her approval with a smirk and proceeded to summon the dish as well as a fork. Harry took them gratefully and immediately began to tear into the chicken.

"You didn't have to stay up," Harry said after a few mouthfuls. "While I really do appreciate the food, I could've gotten some myself."

"I wanted to," Hermione said. "I thought you might enjoy the company."

Although Harry silently agreed that he enjoyed her company, especially after sharing so many meals alone over the past months, he knew there was more to it. He cast his eyes over to where the rather large novel she had been reading was draped over the edge of the couch, then looked back at Hermione with raised eyebrows.

"And?"

Hermione stared back stubbornly, then sighed as she averted her eyes to the book beside her.

"And I haven't had the opportunity to read anything besides defense books and The Tales of Beedle and the Bard since we started the Horcrux hunt," she admitted.

Harry found it amusing that she spoke with the air of a smoker finally getting a cigarette after a dreadfully long weekend.

"So the truth comes out," he said in a mock-hurt voice. "Second fiddle to a book, am I?"

"I'm afraid so," Hermione replied sadly. "At least for tonight."

"I guess I can deal with one night of being second fiddle."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she suppressed a yawn.

Harry set his plate aside. "You look sleepy. Is my witty banter boring you?"

"Oh, don't be silly," Hermione said. "Your banter is far from boring me. I am sort of tired, though."

"Well, don't let me keep you up," Harry said. "I'm basically done eating anyway."

"Really? You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not."

"Well, alright," Hermione said, rising and placing her book on the table from which she had retrieved Harry's plate. Crookshanks fell from her lap and immediately leapt back on the couch, allowing Harry to continue scratching his ears.

As she passed behind him, she ran her hand lightly over Harry's head and made her way to the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. Before she reached the top, she glanced behind her.

"Good night, Harry."

"'Night, Hermione."

She had only climbed a few more steps when Harry spoke again.

"And Hermione?"

"Yes?" she said, turning back towards him.

"I'd better not find a certain someone in my dormitory tomorrow morning."

Despite the distance between them and the dimness of the room, Harry could easily discern the sudden redness of her cheeks.

"Oh, shut up, you," Hermione said, flustered, and ascended the last couple of stairs to her dormitory, entering it before Harry could respond.