Bab 9: Chapter 9
Harry's first day of classes at Hogwarts started off just as he'd expected: bustling corridors filled with excited students, classrooms buzzing with new spells and magical theory, and the underlying thrill of finally being part of the magical world he'd only known from his past life. What Harry hadn't anticipated, however, was the clingy, relentless presence of Lavender Brown beside him all morning.
From the moment they stepped into their first class, Charms with Professor Flitwick, Lavender stuck close to Harry like glue. She slid into the seat next to him, her expression a mix of excitement and something more, and Harry immediately felt her hand slip under the desk. She pulled his hand into her lap, pressing it firmly between her thighs, using it to rub herself through her skirt. Lavender's breaths hitched with every movement, her soft gasps barely audible over Flitwick's lecture on the Levitation Charm.
Harry found himself half-listening to the class, half-aware of Lavender's insistent grip on his hand. It wasn't that he minded—her touch was soft, and there was a strange thrill in the clandestine way she used him during the lesson. But as Lavender continued to guide his hand, her cheeks flushed and her eyes unfocused, Harry couldn't help but think, *Isn't she being a bit too clingy?* He managed to pay just enough attention to the lesson, practicing the wand movements, but Lavender's antics were hard to ignore.
After Charms, they moved on to Herbology, where Professor Sprout introduced the class to a variety of magical plants. Harry found the subject fascinating—the mix of earthy scents and hands-on learning a welcome change—but Lavender wasn't interested in the plants. She clung to him again, pressing his hand back between her thighs under the desk, her soft whimpers masked by the rustling of leaves and Sprout's excited explanations. Harry went through the motions, his fingers moving lazily against her, and Lavender's breathing quickened, her eyes glazing over with need.
By the time Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Harry was grateful for a moment of reprieve. Professor Quirrell's nervous, stuttering lecture was dull, but Lavender's boredom meant she slumped over the desk, finally giving Harry's hand a break. He tried to focus on the lesson, but Quirrell's timid explanations made it difficult to stay engaged. When the class ended, Harry felt a sense of relief, eager to put some distance between himself and Lavender, if only for a short while.
During lunch, Harry managed to slip away, spotting Ron at the Gryffindor table and quickly taking a seat beside him. The Great Hall was filled with the chatter of students enjoying their meals, and Harry finally felt like he could relax without Lavender glued to his side.
Ron looked up, mid-bite of shepherd's pie. "Where've you been, mate? I hardly saw you all morning. You were with Lavender in every class."
Harry shrugged, grabbing a piece of roast chicken. "Yeah, she's been sticking close. I think she likes my hand a lot," he said with a smirk, the understatement making him chuckle inwardly.
Ron's brow furrowed, genuinely puzzled. "Your hand? What do you mean?"
Harry just laughed, not bothering to explain further. "Don't worry about it, Ron. It's just Lavender being Lavender."
Across the table, Hermione had been watching the whole exchange with a sharp, discerning gaze. She'd noticed Harry and Lavender together all day, Lavender's clinginess impossible to ignore. The memory of seeing them in the baths the previous day still lingered in her mind, making her uneasy. Hermione leaned in, looking at Harry with a mix of concern and curiosity.
"How were the classes, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice edged with a hint of suspicion.
Harry turned to her, smiling. "I liked Charms and Herbology. More hands-on stuff, you know? But Quirrell's class… it was just forty minutes of stuttering. Didn't really learn much."
Hermione nodded, though she personally found the classes engaging. "I thought they were alright. Quirrell seems a bit… overwhelmed, but I'm sure it'll get better."
She hesitated, then decided to ask what had been on her mind since the morning. "Harry… what were you and Lavender doing in the bathroom together yesterday?" Her tone was calm, but her eyes were searching, looking for any hint of deception.
Harry blinked, his expression genuinely puzzled. "Oh, that? We were just saving water, you know. Just cleaning each other." His voice was light, sincere, as if what he was describing was perfectly normal.
Hermione's eyes widened as she realized the truth: Harry didn't have the faintest idea that Lavender was using him. The innocent way he spoke, the carefree tone—it was clear Harry thought it was just an innocent, friendly encounter. A mix of anger and protectiveness surged within Hermione. Lavender had taken advantage of him, and Harry had been none the wiser. Hermione couldn't let it slide.
**Hermione's Perspective:**
Hermione's mind buzzed with indignation as she watched Harry laugh with Ron, completely oblivious to the reality of what Lavender had done. The fact that Lavender had manipulated him, used his innocence to her advantage, made Hermione's blood boil. Harry wasn't like other boys—he was kind, honest, and totally unprepared for the way some girls might try to exploit that.
As soon as lunch ended, Hermione made her move. She trailed Lavender through the castle, following her until she was alone in a quiet classroom. Hermione's heart pounded with a mix of anger and a fierce sense of protectiveness she hadn't felt before. She cornered Lavender, blocking the doorway, her expression set with determination.
"Lavender," Hermione said sharply, her voice low but intense. "What do you think you're doing with Harry? He doesn't understand what you're doing—you're taking advantage of him!"
Lavender looked up, unphased, her eyes narrowing with defiance. "What's your problem, Granger? Harry's fine. It's not like he's complaining." She crossed her arms, her stance unbothered, clearly unrepentant.
Hermione stepped closer, her frustration bubbling over. "He's innocent, Lavender! He doesn't know what you're trying to do. You're using him, and it's not right."
Lavender smirked, shaking her head. "I'm not using him, Hermione. I just… found something special. A man who can get hard as easily as breathing. I'm not letting that go."
Hermione's eyes flashed with disbelief. "You're lying. Men don't… they don't just get aroused like that. They're not interested—none of them are!"
But Lavender's confidence didn't waver. She stepped forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm not making it up. I saw it, Hermione. I felt it myself. Harry's different."
With a final defiant look, Lavender walked out, leaving Hermione alone in the empty classroom, her thoughts spinning. Could Lavender be telling the truth? In this world, men's libidos were practically nonexistent, a reality Hermione had begrudgingly accepted. She'd even conducted her own quiet investigations, purely for academic purposes, of course, trying to see if boys ever reacted to anything. But every attempt had been met with indifference—boys were shriveled, unresponsive, as though they were disconnected from the physical world entirely.
But Harry…
Hermione bit her lip, a strange mix of jealousy, curiosity, and frustration swirling inside her. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered, sticking with her as she moved through the rest of the day. She found herself glancing at Harry whenever she could, watching him during classes, her eyes darting downward to see if there was any truth to what Lavender had said.
Hermione told herself it was just research, just a curiosity she needed to satisfy, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. She couldn't help but wonder if Harry really was different, and what that meant for everything she'd come to believe about the boys in their world.
As she watched Harry from across the room, laughing and carefree, Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to let this go so easily. There was more to Harry than met the eye, and Hermione was determined to figure out just what made him so special.
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