The Love Hexagon

(the much needed but always forgotten) Disclaimer: Outside of my dreams, I don't own Harry Potter.

“So, how were the tryouts?” Hermione inquired at dinner, picking up her cup of orange juice. They had just had their tryouts during their extended break, during which every Gryffindor who was in an activity had to report to their workplaces, except a few that were going to the tryouts. After that, they had a Transfiguration lesson.

“They were fine, really. Ginny made it as Chaser,” Harry answered, “and Natalie McDonald got to be the other Chaser. The new beaters are Euan Abercrombie and that David Gardner.”

“There was this boy who tried out, I think his name was Mark Penn, he was about as smart as this quill here,” Ron continued, holding up his quill, “and when we asked him to beat the Bludger, he asked us what the Bludger was, can you believe it?” He and Harry proceeded to laugh as they recalled the event.

“Ron, don't laugh at the boy. Plenty of people don't know Quidditch very well,” Hermione reprehended after swallowing some of her porridge.

“Are you mad? Blimey, even you, miss Wonky Faint, knows what a Bludger is,” Ron answered. Hermione was surprised, her eyes looked at Harry questioningly. “Sorry, Harry told me,” Ron justified and Harry laughed in agreement.

“How was gossiping, Hermione?” Harry asked, feeling himself be carried away by the gleeful moment. Ron started to snicker and Hermione sighed with frustration.

“I didn't work much today… first, Dumbledore gave us a speech on the progress of human relations based and fueled by a mutual feeling of respect despite varying ideals and values, and a shared sense of the importance of cooperation and unity,” she told them, stopping to eat a little of her roast beef.

“What was it about?” Ron asked, frowning.

“I just told you. It was about the progress of human relations—“

“Hermione, English please,” Ron demanded. Hermione looked offended, and narrowed her eyes.

“Well… basically, he told us that he agreed to approve the creation of the newspaper to improve inter-House relations for Gryffindors and to raise awareness of Hogwarts-related news. The newspaper is supposed to unite us in the pursuit of a common goal, too,” Hermione explained.

“Which is?” Harry inquired.

“No idea.” Hermione answered very simply while examining a list, which Harry recognized as the list of each Gryffindor's activity for extra-points. “Oh, and I just found out who's Snape's assistant, Ron.”

“Who?”

“Dennis Creevey,” she answered Ron with pity. “How unfortunate for him.”

“Somehow, I don't think `unfortunate' covers it,” Ron said.

“Hermione, who else works in there, in the newspaper?” Harry questioned, curious.

“Colin Creevey, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and some others that I couldn't name. We're a total of ten,” she added in conclusion. “Our first day of actual work is tomorrow, you know… tomorrow morning Parvati is collecting all the gossip she can so we can edit them and print them. It's horrible,” she said sadly.

“Goipin? I tho ebby gool lytit,” Ron inputted with his mouth full.

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked coolly.

“I thought every girl liked to gossip,” Ron repeated after swallowing, blushing profusely.

“I don't. Once you're a victim of it, you never really like it,” Hermione commented sagely, proceeding to eat her meal. Ron went on to talk about how his brothers were going to envy him for the Top Box seats to the first game of the European Quidditch Cup, but Harry finished his meal quietly, his thoughts on his fourth year, when Hermione had been accused by Rita Skeeter of toying with Harry's and Viktor Krum's feelings. She had gotten pounds of hate letter after that and still received them now and then. Harry had felt hugely injusticed at that time to be called Hermione's boyfriend. Now, when he looked back, he couldn't see what was so terrible about it. He remembered fondly how Hermione had handled the situation; with much more dignity than anyone could've imagined.

“Hermione, what happened to Rita Skeeter?” Harry wondered.

“I was thinking about that, too. About our fourth year, to be more precise,” she started to say. “She's writing for the Quibbler, Harry. Last time I read something of hers, it was an article about giant uprisings.”

With a smile, Harry resumed eating. He couldn't believe they had been thinking about exactly the same thing.

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That night in their Common Room, Harry, sitting on the floor, struggled to finish his Potions essay on the Esteem Draught for the next day, while a panicked Ron tried to interpret dreams for Divination. Hermione, by contrast, was sitting comfortably on the couch, reading a book about advanced defensive spells while looking very relaxed. A strange kind of warmth filled Harry whenever he was near Hermione nowadays, so he tried his best to not get too close to her until he could uncover the motives for these reactions. There was something about her that Harry couldn't place. It was something different, and at the same time, Harry knew that everything was the same. A memory from that summer, in Sirius' old house, sparked alive in his mind. He had just arrived, and Hermione was sitting on a couch talking to Ginny with Crookshanks in her lap. There was nothing really remarkable about that scene, but it been burned into his memory, so that at that moment, he had to force himself to push it away in order to concentrate on his Potions essay.

“Hermione, can you help me with something here?” Ron pleaded, almost against his will.

“What are you studying?” She asked vaguely, still half-absorbed in her reading.

“Divination,” he answered grimly. Hermione looked up from her book with pity.

“It's been a long time, and never once have I regretted walking out on that old fraud. I don't know anything about Firenze and his capability to teach, but Divination is quite useless in my opinion,” she said scathingly, putting her book down and walking over to where Ron was sitting. “What is it you need help on?”

“Well, it's just dreams. Do you know anything about Divination?”

“Of course I do. I've read all the books on Divination in the library,” she told him, and started to explain the basic principles of dream interpretation, pointing out helpfully that he was looking at the wrong section of his book. Harry, sighing, dropped his quill and rubbed his eyes. It was getting very late and he had only written a paragraph or two of his essay. And with Hermione popping into his head every now and then for reasons completely unknown to him, he had a feeling this essay wouldn't be finished very soon.

“I, uh… need you to tell me a dream of yours, and I'll interpret it, even though Firenze says I'm not making the right interpretations. I was going to get Harry's dream, but he's busy,” Ron said, and Harry looked up at the sound of his name, and his eyes met not Ron's, but Hermione's, who was looking at him with sympathy.

“Fine. I dreamed,” she said, standing up and sitting beside Harry, “that I was going back in time with someone, using a Time-Turner.” She stole a glance at Harry, who smiled.

“Okay… give me a few minutes. I'll figure this out,” Ron said distractedly, already turning the pages of his book.

“Harry, you seem pretty lost in that essay,” she observed, taking a look at his essay. “Oh, Harry… sorry, but it can never be brewed when the moon's not full,” she corrected grimly. “And, if the injured person is a female, the brewer has to be male. They always have to have opposing sexes, the brewer and the injured.”

“It's complete rubbish, then,” Harry muttered, about to throw away the paper when Hermione grabbed his hand to stop him.

“No…" she denied weakly, and Harry glared. “Well, so far it is, but you can always correct it,” she said in a consoling tone. She took the paper and examined it again. “Oh, you got almost all of the ingredients right. See? A leaf of asphodel, fluxweed, and mandrake roots. You forgot a piece of oak wood, though,” she said, writing it down on his essay. “There. Now all you have to do is correct the wrong parts and add the instructions for brewage,” she said. Harry had the impression that she had lowered her voice, and had to lean his head slightly closer to her in order to hear the last part of her sentence.

“Well, thanks, Hermione. You really are a lifesaver,” Harry said, grinning, happy his essay hadn't been a complete waste of time. She blushed for a second and he realized they were sitting much too close to each other. His folded legs were touching one of her legs, and his left arm was touching her right one. He looked up, slightly panicked, and when his eyes met Hermione's, he felt his mouth dry up suddenly and his palm become very sweaty. He desperately tried to find words to say in an apology; anything at all, but nothing came out. Hermione was looking puzzled and a bit embarrassed.

“Hermione! I found it! I found your interpretation!” Ron cried out, and Harry's eyes immediately snapped to look at his friend, and was relieved to find him still looking at his book, while Hermione quickly stood up and sat once again on the couch, looking much less comfortable than the last time she had been sitting there. “It says here that time traveling is used mostly in the search of lost love, or something like that… wait… yeah, that's it. Lost love,” Ron informed triumphantly. “Now all I have to do is write the ending. You were supposed to find someone to love during your dream...did you?”

“Did… did I what?” Hermione inquired nervously. Harry, however, just by looking at her could tell she had heard the question very well. She was trying to buy time, but Harry could not understand why. He frowned, and Hermione saw it.

“Did you find someone to love when you dreamed you were going back in time?” Ron asked again, this time impatiently.

“Well… sure. I uh… found a friend I could love. It's just friendship love, though,” she explained in a low voice, swallowing hard.

“Well, it doesn't say anything about friendship love here…” Ron muttered, scanning the page again then turning it.

“Oh, look at the time,” Hermione said in an uneasy voice. “I'm going to sleep. Good night, Ron.” She walked over to Harry where Harry was, and without looking at him, picked up a book of hers that Harry had been using. “Good night, Harry,” she said hesitantly, finally looking at him. She then leaned a little in his direction and whispered cryptically, “it's just Divination. It's not… real. It's just Divination.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, not understanding a word of what she had just said. But before he could question her on her statement, she had already left for the staircase. She turned briefly and, looking at the two of them, said, “see you two in the morning.”

“Yeah, g'night, Hermione,” Ron said, and resumed studying. Harry, however, found it much harder to concentrate again.

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“Good morning,” Ron and Harry greeted Hermione grumpily. She looked up at them with concern and quickly folded her Daily Prophet.

“What happened? You two didn't sleep very well?”

“No… we stayed up till about 2 o'clock trying to study,” Harry said. “I finished the essay, though,” he continued with a smile. Hermione smiled back approvingly, and Harry's stomach tied itself into warm knots.

“Well, I got the dream interpretation right… I think. I'm not sure,” Ron affirmed tiredly, yawning. “Anyway, good thing we have Quidditch practice later…” he consoled himself, both of them sitting down.

“Eat your breakfasts, I have to go somewhere,” Hermione said, taking a last sip of her pumpkin juice.

“Meeting someone? Vicki maybe?” Ron questioned with irritation.

“Yes, I'm meeting Viktor,” she confirmed, sounding irritated herself. “See you guys later.”

Harry tried to eat after Hermione exited the Great Hall, but apparently his appetite had left with her. While Ron gobbled up his breakfast, Harry was deep in thought.

Something had to be wrong with him, he deduced. Hermione was practically dictating the way he felt lately. If she left the room he was in, or if she strayed from his sight for as little as a few minutes, he'd worry about her. He guessed it was Voldemort's threat getting the better of him, but that didn't explain his other sensations around her. Lately, watching Hermione had become a very interesting activity, and being with her, being able to talk alone with her was something he regarded as being pleasurable to the utmost. Last year he had been struggling to keep her away from him, but now he didn't want that at all. Yes, something had to be wrong with him. A fleeting, panicked thought dashed across his brain. Maybe… he was fancying Hermione. No, it couldn't be. He remembered what Ron had described as being his own feelings towards her, and he shook his head. His feelings were very different. He had no irritation or anger regarding her, and while he wanted to impress to Hermione now and then, that was nothing to be alarmed about. He had always felt, deep down, that he had to be his best around her. She was always the best herself, wasn't she? He couldn't have started to fancy her. He had fancied Cho, hadn't he? And they weren't the same feelings. With Hermione they were different, in ways he couldn't quite define.

All his musings, he decided gloomily, had left him right where he had started at: something had to be wrong with him. And he hadn't the slightest clue as to what it all pointed to.

Harry felt an urge to talk to someone about this, and turned to Ron, but as he watched his friend busily chew his meal, Harry was reminded of Ron's feelings for Hermione. The mere idea of talking to Ron about what he was going through seemed entirely too wrong. But whom else did he have? Ginny? Neville? Seamus or Dean? Sure that what he was feeling toward Hermione wasn't anything serious even though he had no idea what they were, he stood up, walked a little to the Ravenclaw table, and stood right in front of Luna Lovegood. Desperate situations, desperate measures.

Luna had been reading her father's newspaper with her head slanted sideways, but stopped when she saw Harry's miserable face.

“You're Harry Potter,” she said simply, her head still slanted.

“I know I am, Luna,” Harry said, sounding more exhausted than he really was. “Can we talk? In the library maybe?” he suggested.

“Of course, Harry Potter,” she said in her usual dreamy voice, straightening her neck. “To the library.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++=======================+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“You've fallen in love with Hermione Granger, Harry Potter,” Luna said simply. Harry's jaw dropped in alarm and shock and he became frozen. They had been talking for barely 5 minutes. Harry had started to describe how he felt, from the moment he saw her again that summer to the uncomfortable feeling he had had the night before, and hadn't expected Luna's answer to be this. “And I think you'd better tell her.” In all honesty, Harry had never, in his whole entire, heard anything more ridiculous. His vision was becoming slightly blurry and he could feel his body become sweaty.

“What? I—what are you talking about?!” Harry whispered harshly, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.

“You should tell her, or else,” Luna warned, making her words sound not at all like a warning, but like someone congratulating another person for their birthday.

“I—I'm not—“ Harry started to say when his attention was caught by her last words. “Or else what?”

“Or else she'll start to like Viktor Krum, and you'll never get a chance with her.”

“You're wrong. I don't like her like that, we've been good friends for a long time, and… and…” Harry trailed off when the enormity of the moment settled on him. What if her words were true? No… Ron liked her. Not him. Suddenly, his mouth felt very dry.

“Yes, you do,” she insisted with her maddeningly dreamy voice.

“B—but—but I don't feel what Ron feels!” He exclaimed, and panicked, he glanced around in the library and gulped when he received various reproaching looks from people around him who had been bothered. He mouthed a sorry before turning back to Luna, and was immediately angry when he caught her staring out into space, singing `Weasley is Our King' under her breath. “Did you hear me? I said I don't feel at all like Ron feels, and he's the one who fancies her.” Luna immediately stopped singing the song and turned her eyes to Harry, capturing him in an eerie gaze.

“Ronald fancies Hermione Granger?”

“Yeah…” Harry confirmed, invaded by an uneasy feeling. “He's fancied her for ages.”

“Oh…” was all Luna said.

“Luna? I'm not—I don't fancy Hermione, all right?” He felt desperate to make her see the truth, to make her see what he saw. Hermione was Hermione. How could he fancy Hermione? It was ridiculous.

“No? Okay,” she agreed, nodding. “Why, though, did you want to talk to me if you were going to disagree with me?” Luna asked that without any trace of anger or indignation in his voice. Harry groaned with confusion and frustration and buried his face in his hands. Everything felt wrong to him suddenly. He wished he could talk to Hermione. She always managed to make things reasonable, in addition to always knowing how to calm him. But, being the very reason he wanted to talk to her in the first place, Harry resorted to groaning with displeasure. Rubbing his temples, Harry tried to make sense of things, even though he was starting to have a headache and it was worsening by the minute.

“Really? Well, we might as well go then. Next weekend we can even go to Hogsmeade!” Harry faintly heard Hermione's happy suggestion and immediately he snapped his head up, trying to find her location. A wave of glee washed through him, and suddenly he didn't care about what Luna had said. Not at all. All he wanted was to see Hermione. He stood up in a hurry and half-ran, half-walked excitedly to the nearest shelf. He stopped, however, and felt his heart drop to the floor when he heard a male voice answer her.

“But, Her-own-ninny, vill your frends not vant to go wiv you?”

“We can all go together, Viktor. It'll be nice for them to get to know you better,” Hermione answered casually, and Harry hid behind another shelf when he saw that Hermione was walking towards the one where he was stationed. Sitting down, he tried to recompose himself. There was a storm of bad feelings inside him now, and they threatened to make him explode in fury, frustration, confusion and most of all, hurt.

“Luna… hello,” Harry heard Hermione greet hesitantly. “What are you doing here?” Harry crawled to a place where he could watch the three of them and felt the pain increase when his eyes rested on Krum, who was staring at Hermione with something very close to fascination in his eyes.

“What does it look like?” Luna snapped rudely. Harry, Hermione and Krum all were taken aback. Harry could see that Hermione, whose eyes had been dangerously narrowed, had a scathing comment to throw Luna's way in the tip of her tongue, but she decided to reserve it.

“Well, it actually looks like you're not doing anything… but uh… I can see you're in a bad mood, so…” Hermione looked around uneasily. “Come on, Viktor… I think we should go,” she said, and pulled Krum by the arm away from Luna. “Sorry if we disturbed you, Luna,” Hermione apologized, not sounding very sorry to Harry. Luna did not respond. In fact, she didn't even acknowledge Hermione leaving.

As soon as Hermione was out of the library, Harry returned to the place where he had been sitting down, and carefully sat a little farther away from Luna then where he had been sitting previously. He judged it was a safe distance. “Hi, Luna,” Harry said, much lower than he had intended.

“Oh, hello again, Harry Potter,” she greeted, her voice having regained its dreamy quality. This shocked Harry, who now thought of the possibility that the scene with Hermione had been completely invented by his brain.

“What—what did Hermione want?” He risked asking, fearing she would have no idea what he was talking about, proving that he was going mad. He certainly felt mad.

“She was talking to Viktor Krum,” she said simply. “She didn't want anything.” She turned to Harry with a faint smile and asked, in a tone that made goosebumps travel down Harry's spine, “but you wanted something, didn't you? From me. What was it?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing, really. I'm fine,” Harry reassured nervously. “Thanks for everything, Luna.” And with that, Harry left the library in hurried steps. He did not fancy Hermione. He did not. He… Hermione was sitting on the couch in number 12 Grimmauld Place, talking to Ginny whilw stroking her cat's fur. She heard Harry enter and turned, smiling with glee…

Harry stopped in the middle of one of the halls and leaned his back against the wall, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Ron fancied her. He didn't. He couldn't. And didn't Hermione like Viktor Krum? No, not yet. There was still time. Wait. Time for what? He shook his head vigorously, in hope that it'd clear his thoughts. It didn't, but one thought became very clear in his mind: he did want Hermione to like him. And there was something absolutely wrong with him.

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Hermione walked towards the North Tower with dread. This was her first day as columnist for a gossip column, where she would work with no one but the expert on everyone's lives, Parvati Patil. Groaning, Hermione slowed her step in order to postpone her entrance in her workplace.

She was on her afternoon break, having just had two lessons of Arithmancy. She loved the subject, but had found herself unable to concentrate during the last lesson. Her mind was stuck with confusion on Luna's actions towards her. Hermione simply could not understand why the girl had taken to acting like she hated her. When she had answered Hermione's question so rudely, her temper had instantly flared. Hermione had been polite. She had been kind, even pretended she was actually interested in what the girl was doing in the library, since she practically lived there and had never once encountered her. Hermione had had the perfect answer in her mind, begging to be said, but had decided against saying it. A verbal fight with Luna Lovegood was bound to be a waste of time. Also a waste was trying to reason Luna's actions, since the girl's mind didn't seem to work the way everyone else's did, so it'd be impossible to use what Hermione called “normal logic” to figure the girl out. Hermione judged it better to allow her mind to rest from anything related to Luna.

“Well… hello, hello, miss Granger,” Parvati greeted cheerfully when Hermione pushed the door open and entered the former Divination classroom, where Parvati had been writing down in a notebook. Hermione was slightly surprised that she had organized the place to look like an actual place where they could work.

“Hi,” Hermione greeted back, placing her books on a table that had a little piece of wood attached to it, and where her name had been engraved. “What are we going to write about today?”

“I was just deciding that when you came. I've got loads of juicy things we can print,” she said, closing her notebook and motioning for Hermione to sit down, which Hermione hesitantly did. She was not in the mood to talk about anyone's life at the moment. “Well, we've got Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley's breakup, and oh, Roger Davies and that Slytherin girl broke up, and also Cho Chang and Michael Corner, as well as—“ she had said excitedly when Hermione interrupted her.

“You only know about breakups?” Hermione asked incredulously. This job was getting worse by the minute.

“No…” she denied, and Hermione was about to sigh with relief when she heard the rest of Parvati's answer. “I know a lot about hook-ups, too. Like Lavender and Dean Thomas, Michael Corner and Mandy Brocklehurst, and there's also Anthony Goldstein and she-who-shall-not-be-named,” she told, huffing.

“Oh, you mean your sister Padma,” Hermione said, containing a laugh. “You two are still bickering?”

“Hermione, don't you ever say her name in front of me again,” Parvati ordered with anger. Then, examining her nails, she said, huffing, “that attention-seeking, arrogant, lying, ugly—“ at that moment Hermione interrupted her.

“Ugly? Oh… you think you're ugly?” Hermione inquired with interest. Parvati, to Hermione, was one of the most conceited people she had ever met.

“Of course I'm not ugly! What are you saying, Granger?” Parvati questioned with suspicion.

“Nothing… she just looks exactly like you, that's all…” Hermione muttered, taking out her notebooks.

“Anyhoo, we also mustn't forget another thing. Write this one down, Hermione,” Parvati commanded, and Hermione, rolling her eyes, got her quill ready to write. “The hook-up of the century… Hermione Granger and Mr. Famous Quidditch Player Viktor Krum!” Parvati then started to giggle, ignoring Hermione's glare.

“We are not together, Parvati. And if all those stories you've heard of breakups and such are as true as that absolute lie about me and Viktor, forget them all.”

“Forget them? Why? Because some aren't true?” Parvati sounded hurt.

“Of course, Parvati!” Hermione exclaimed, standing up. Parvati's cold answer, however, made her sit down.

“Herms, honey, gossip columns don't tell the truth or lies. They tell gossip.”

“I'm still wondering how you got a gossip column approved… it seems to me like there's a fat chance that Dumbledore would allow such thing to spread enmity in the school,” Hermione told with honesty, and the girl shrugged.

“All you had to do was get a teacher to support your idea. There was this boy who actually got that `Today in History' section approved just because of Binns,” Parvati explained chattily, obviously pleased Hermione was listening attentively. “I tell you, I have never heard of a duller idea.”

“It's not dull. It's the most interesting and helpful section,” Hermione protested, scowling.

“It's not interesting and it's only helpful if you've got insomnia and you need something to help you fall asleep,” the girl countered firmly. “Anyway, I've got the more interesting idea, the idea everyone wanted to have, but I'm the one who had it, so everyone envies me.” Hermione smiled with pity. The girl couldn't be more wrong. “So, we better get to work, huh?” She handed Hermione a piece of parchment with a list of names. “All you need to do for now is correct any names I misspelled or anything like that. Then, we'll get to work on the fun stuff.”

“What fun stuff?” Hermione asked incredulously. Gossiping, fun? Fun? What was wrong with this girl?

“Oh, you'll see. Wait until you read my paper about Natalie McDonald's ugly breakup or…” Hermione shut out the conversation with frustration. She now knew, without a shadow of doubt, that there was absolutely no chance she would ever enjoy this job. She stood up, deciding she would look around their workplace to cool off a little before she started to write the horrible stories that they'd print, and her eyes wandered to a huge wooden board full of photos at the wall to her left. She walked towards it until she was very close to it, and started to examine the various pictures, which had been divided by House. She examined them all with a fond smile. She loved Hogwarts, even if the people who studied there weren't very lovable.

And then, while she idly continued to see the photos, her eyes found a section devoted completely to Harry, Ron, and herself. There were many photos of them, but she gulped uncomfortably when she saw that the absolute majority of them were of her and Harry, by themselves, talking. Or worse, touching. Innocent movements such as a nudge in the ribs looked horribly suggestive to Hermione. One particular was of the three of them sitting at the Gyrffindor table for a meal, but Harry was whispering something in Hermione's ear while Ron was chatting with someone else in the Great Hall. She examined herself and concluded that the photo had been taken during their fifth year, even though she couldn't remember when, exactly, that had happened. They seemed so comfortable sitting together…

"Who took these photos, Parvati?" Hermione asked, trying to control her voice.

"Colin Creevey. He's been taking so many photos all these years, he decided to give us some for our stories," Parvati informed absently. She was still behind her table, writing down. "Found anything interesting?"

"Oh... no. Nothing," assured Hermione. "Nothing at all," she whispered to herself, sitting down behind her table and covering her face with her hands. Now she was sure that Harry wouldn't get out of her head until she went to sleep. Her promises were never kept.

A/N: I liked this chapter very much. Even though there wasn't a lot of humor in it, I had a lot of fun writing it. And book 3 is the only one I didn't read completely (missed the ending), and only watched the movie, so I'm not sure Ron knows about the Time-Turner thing with Harry and Hermione. In this story, he knows nothing about it. If anyone is wondering what that last sentnce meant, there will be an explanation. I hope you liked this chapter, so please review!