Simply Beautiful by Fae Princess

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 18/09/2003
Last Updated: 08/10/2003
Status: Completed

During Harry's Fifth year, Hermione asks him a seemingly "innocent" question.
Harry learns the hard way that nothing is sacred, especially when attending Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry.




1. Part One
-----------

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either
copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective
owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.


**Author's Note:** This story was written before OotP came out, therefore it is an AU story.
I hope you can enjoy this...even if it *is* AU. Heck, it's Harry and Hermione. What more
could you want?


***


"I hate Snape, I hate Snape, I hate him, hate him, hate him," Harry grumbled, flipping
angrily through a Potions textbook. He found the desired page, and (still steaming with rage) he
began to research the information he would need to do his assignment.

Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, in his infamous way had doubled the Gryffindors' load
of homework, knowing full well that, as 5th years, they had their O.W.L's to study for on top
of all their regular homework. But the Potions Master held no sympathy for them, and it took Harry
a lot of self-control not to cram his cauldron down Snape's throat.

Which was why Harry found himself in the library one bright and sunny Saturday afternoon, hiding
behind a tower of thick textbooks, hoping to find anything that would help him with his ridiculous
assignment. And as soon as he found something helpful, he settled himself down to begin writing,
when a voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts of potions and how much he hated his
professor.

"*There* you are, Harry. I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Harry looked up to see Lavender Brown leaning over his shoulder, sneaking a peek at his homework,
but she didn't seem the least bit interested in what he was writing. There was a peculiar glint
of triumph in her eye, and Harry mentally groaned. He did *not* want to deal with the biggest
gossip queen at Hogwarts right now.

"You found me," Harry told her in a flat tone, keeping his quill poised to write.

Lavender took this as an invitation as she pulled up a chair to sit next to him.

"I heard some interesting news," she said breathlessly. She reminded Harry strongly of a
vulture. Or worse; Rita Skeeter. He shuddered, thinking of the reporter who had displayed his whole
life for everyone in the wizarding world to see.

"Did you now," Harry replied, not at all interested to hear what Lavender had to say. He
normally didn't harbor any ill feelings toward his fellow Gryffindor. In fact, over time he had
grown to enjoy her company. But at times like these, when she started buzzing around like a hornet,
gathering spicy rumors here, tossing false information there, Harry would rather pretend she
didn't exist. And now she was buzzing around him, and it was all he could do to keep from
swatting her away. Literally.

"So is it true?" Lavender asked, not at all affected by Harry's cool attitude towards
her.

"I'm kind of busy, Lavender," Harry said, trying to sound as polite as possible under
the circumstances.

"I won't take up much of your time. I promise," she told him, flashing him a smile
that had brought down stronger guys than Harry.

Harry dropped his quill onto the table with a quick snap, and he shot her a fierce look.

"Jeez, you're awfully touchy today," Lavender remarked.

Harry gave her a weak smile. "What can I say, Lavender? You bring out the best in me," he
replied sarcastically.

Lavender went on, undaunted. "I heard about you and Cho," she said with an air of someone
who was revealing a gigantic secret.

"I'm not surprised," Harry replied, staring at his textbook, wishing and hoping that
Lavender would perform a vanishing act. But the gossip queen would not relent until she got what
she wanted.

"So is it true?" she asked again.

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

Lavender's eager expression molded into one of impatience. "Harry, I'm only asking
because I need to know the truth, to set everyone straight. Do you have *any* idea what kind
of ridiculous rumors are flying around the Castle?" she asked him.

"All of which you started, no doubt," Harry quipped.

Lavender sighed. She seemed to be battling an inner struggle within herself. Her patience was
wearing thin, but she wanted to hear the truth from the number one source, Harry Potter
himself.

"If you tell me the truth, I'll go," she promised.

Harry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly while counting backwards from 10 to 1. One way or
another, Lavender was going to find out the truth. At least if he told her, she'd go
away.

"Yes, it's true. Cho and I broke up yesterday. OK? Does that satisfy you? Will you leave
me be now?" he pleaded.

"Well... wait a minute!" Lavender exclaimed. "Who broke up with who?"

"Lavender!"

"OK, OK...I suppose that's a little unfair. I guess we'll just have to make up our own
versions of what happened."

"You already *have*," Harry reminded her, having heard Seamus Finnigan and Dean
Thomas earlier that morning, talking in their dormitory. They had assumed that Harry was sleeping,
and he *had* been, until he woke up to their voices. He wasn't aware that guys gossiped.
In one way, it was kind of funny, really. Of course, they had been talking about him, so the humor
in the situation suddenly seemed to be lacking.

Harry stared at Lavender, raising his brows and giving her a pointed look.

"Oh, right," Lavender said, catching the look he was giving her. "Actually, that
wasn't why I came to look for you. Hermione needs you," she said, grinning.

Not understanding the grin, Harry said, "why?"

"She just needs your opinion on something," Lavender replied, giving him a mysterious
look.

"Why can't she just ask you?" Harry asked her.

Lavender gave Harry a sour look. "Well, I *gave* her my opinion, but apparently my
expertise counts for nothing around here," she told him bitterly.

"Gee, imagine that," Harry muttered, pretending to sound sympathetic.

Lavender stood up suddenly, a genuine hurt look gracing her features. "I don't know
*what* your problem is, Harry. But it sounds to me like you either need to get another girl
friend, or you simply need a serious attitude adjustment."

As she turned to walk out of the library, Harry caught her arm, spinning her back to look at
him.

"Lavender, I'm sorry," Harry apologized immediately, realising how much of a prat he
really sounded like. "I'm just under a lot of stress, with school, and the O.W.L's
coming up...I didn't mean any of it...just...could you put up with me for the next little
while?"

Lavender considered him a moment, then smiled a genuine smile. "OK. And I'm sorry, too. I
guess I really had no right prying into your life. *Are* you OK?" she asked, her whole
aspect changing. She was back to the girl that Harry enjoyed being around.

Harry nodded, smiling. "I'm fine. Now... where's Hermione?"

*

The common room was utterly empty, save for a couple of second years playing a game of Wizards
Chess in the corner. Harry made his way slowly up the stairs, leading to the Prefects dormitories.
What could Hermione possibly want with him?

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, he knocked. Not getting an answer, his first
impulse was to turn and head straight back to the library. But then he heard a noise coming from
inside Hermione's room, a sort of thumping noise, and the sound of a door being shut.

Harry very cautiously turned the doorknob, edged the door open, and stuck his head in only a
fraction.

"Hermione?" Harry said, seeing nothing but an empty dorm room.

Another loud thump came from somewhere to his right. Hermione could be heard through a closed door,
moaning in what sounded like pain.

"Hermione?"

"I'm in here, Harry. Just...hold on..." Hermione called through the closed
door.

"What's going on?" Harry asked her, still standing by the doorway, too nervous to
step inside.

There was some shuffling, some water pouring, the taps being shut off, and still, Harry had no clue
what was going on.

"Harry?" Hermione called, after what seemed like a very long time to Harry.

"I'm still here," Harry told her.

"I'm coming out. But you have to promise me that you won't laugh," came
Hermione's response.

Harry rolled his eyes in mild agitation. "Hermione? Why would I ever laugh at you? Just come
out," he pleaded with her.

"I *am* going to come out, but you have to promise me first," she insisted. And
Harry just knew that if he didn't humor her, he'd land up standing there forever.

"All right, all right. I promise."

There was another pause, and then the door to the half bathroom opened just a crack, and from where
Harry was standing, he could see a pair of cinnamon eyes searching the entire room, until they
finally landing on Harry.

"What are you doing over there?" she asked, seeing Harry standing by the main door.

"Er...this is a girl's room..." he said nervously.

Hermione giggled, finding Harry's embarrassment quite adorable.

"This is also a Prefect's room. And you're a Prefect. You're allowed to come
in," she insisted, still standing behind the door.

"This may be a Prefect's room, but it's a *female's* room, first and
foremost," Harry said stubbornly.

"Harry, just get inside, would you? I'm not going to argue with you halfway across the
room," Hermione snapped. The tone in her voice, one of amusement, reassured Harry that she
wasn't actually angry.

"Listen, Harry," Hermione said, trying a new tack. "We're both Prefect's.
*And* we're best friends. So it's all right if we stand in the same bedroom together,
OK?"

And so reluctantly, very reluctantly, Harry took a few more steps into the room, until he reached
the bed, standing just a few feet from where Hermione was behind the door.

"Good boy," Hermione encouraged sarcastically.

"Are you coming out now?" Harry asked her.

In answer, the door opened, and Hermione stepped out. Only, it wasn't the Hermione that Harry
was used to. He remembered clearly how pretty she looked at the Yule Ball the previous year, but
pretty just didn't cut it this time.

She was wearing (as Harry's eyes widened with surprise) a knee length black skirt, and strappy
black heels which only accentuated her slender legs, making them look longer, and Hermione taller.
Her shirt was probably the most revealing thing he had ever seen on her, a light blue T-shirt with
the sleeves cut off just after the shoulders, with a deep v-neck. The shirt in itself was snug;
making Harry slightly more embarrassed than he was before. But as he looked upwards, to her face
and hair, he instantly knew what his favorite part of the whole look was.

She had to have used some Charm to tame her hair. It was straight, brushed down and parted down the
middle. As Harry observed her from head to toe, Hermione nervously tucked a few strands of hair
behind her ear, and Harry caught the glint of an earring dangling from her earlobe. A simple chain
hung around her neck, and there was a matching bracelet on her right wrist. The only make-up he
could see on her was a faint lip-gloss, and a light hint of eye shadow to match her shirt.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, now biting her bottom lip anxiously.

Harry hadn't even noticed that he was staring straight into her eyes, his mouth hanging
slightly open. But once he realised it, he snapped himself back to reality, stepping away from her
ever so slightly.

"It's nothing...uh...so why am I here?" he asked, his voice coming out slightly
higher than usual. He cleared his throat.

"For this," Hermione said, spreading out her arms and twirling around gracefully, her
skirt and hair flowing with her every movement. "I want Ron's birthday to go perfectly.
We're going to Hogsmeade today for dinner."

"Oh, right," Harry said, suddenly remembering the dinner that they had been planning for
weeks.

"I just want to make sure that I look perfect for him, you know? I wanted a guy's
perspective on this, and you were the only guy I could think of who would be perfectly honest with
me."

Harry, not sure what to do or say, dug his hands into his pockets, feeling more awkward than he had
ever felt before. He felt suddenly relieved that he didn't *have* to lie. But to tell her
how she really looked...A new fear suddenly gripped him. What if he got carried away? What if, even
worse, he started to stutter and blush while telling her that she looked fine?

*She looks **more** than fine, you mindless git*.

"So...what do you think?" she asked, bringing him from his own thoughts.

"Er...You look fine," he mumbled, staring at the floor.

Hermione frowned. She was hoping that she'd get a better reaction. She wanted to look
*stunning*, or *beautiful*. She had worked so hard at her hair, and he hadn't even
commented on it!

But then she reminded herself that the only opinion that truly mattered to her was Ron's. After
all, she was doing this for him...wasn't she?

"Why are you staring at my feet? Is it the heels? Do they make me look too tall, too lanky?
Too cheap?" she asked Harry, and as she said those words his eyes wandered back to her
face.

"No..." he said, and he swallowed. "No, the heels are fine," he said, trying to
keep it simple.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, fighting for patience.

"What about the outfit? Is this too much, too little?" she wondered.

"No, the outfit's fine," he said, glancing at the clock on her nightstand.

"And my hair?"

"Fine."

"What about the jewelry?" said Hermione.

"Fine"

"And what about my bra? Is it too lacy, or just too plain?"

Harry's wide eyes met Hermione's in an instant. It was clear, as he choked and spluttered;
that he was most definitely embarrassed by the question.

Hermione gave him a sweet and innocent smile.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped, unaware that he was gawking at her.

"Just making sure that you were listening, Harry Potter! So that's *all* you have to
say; is that I look *fine*? You have no encouraging words for your best friend, is that
it?"

"That's *not* it," Harry insisted, feeling anxious.

"Then what is it, Harry?"

Harry stared at her, feeling completely helpless. Telling her how he felt was simply not an option.
There was only one thing he *could* do, and he wasn't sure he was prepared to go for
it.

"You look more than fine," Harry finally said, feeling utterly defeated. "Your
legs...look slender, not too tall, not too short, but really...they *are* every guy's
fantasy."

Hermione gave him a satisfied look, folding her arms across her chest. "*Every* guy's
fantasy, Harry?"

"You heard right," he said. "Now, as for your outfit? For the occasion, I think
it's perfect. It's not too revealing and not too "grandma-ish". As far as
*you're* concerned, it looks absolutely stunning on you."

A smile slowly crept along Hermione's lips.

"As for the jewelry, you did the right thing not putting too much on. It's just the right
amount, and it's not too glittery, so... it doesn't take from your natural
beauty."

Hermione opened her mouth in awe. This *couldn't* be Harry Potter talking. It simply
couldn't be!

"And as for your hair..." Harry continued, looking at her with an unrealised desire,
"when you walked out of that bathroom, I thought I was staring at a real life angel. Don't
get me wrong, I love your bushy, curly hair. But the straight hair really, truly brings out your
face more. The bushy hair somehow hid that part of you, but with the straight hair, it's almost
as if you're saying that you're ready to let other people see the true beauty that's in
you. That I've always known is there...that Ron has known is there..."

He had said the magic word. Ron. For an instant, Hermione had completely forgotten about him. She
felt simply lost in Harry's sentimental words. Even Ron, in all their time being together, had
never made her feel so beautiful, so loved, and so wanted.

But she was being silly. Harry Potter did *not* want her. He was simply telling her what she
longed to hear, and as her best friend, and best friend only, he felt obligated to say those things
to her, to make her feel special and needed.

And it worked like a charm, she thought, somewhat bitterly.

"Now, as for the bra..." Harry said, grinning. Hermione blushed instantly.

"I was just trying to get your attention," she said, and he laughed, feeling an immense
weight lift from him.

A strange silence fell between the two. It wasn't uncomfortable, as Harry always expected it to
be, but rather...it was peaceful.

Hermione looked at him, tears glossing her eyes as the words Harry had spoke to her replayed in her
mind.

"Thank you...Harry," she said softly.

Harry smiled. "What are friends for?"

He looked away, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. That's all they were. Friends. That's
all they would always be, and it hurt so much, that Harry was tempted to learn how to brew a potion
specified to get rid of heartache. He knew it existed. He had seen it in a book once. He shook his
head. He was *really* starting to sound like Hermione.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked him, concerned.

Harry snapped himself out of his thoughts. "Oh, it's nothing," he told her, but
Hermione didn't look convinced.

"I heard about Cho," Hermione told him, peering up at him with her pretty eyes.

Harry didn't say anything, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes, or the curiosity, or worse,
the disappointment. There were emotions and feelings that he was experiencing at the moment, and he
couldn't begin to fathom *how* or *why* he was having these thoughts about
*her*.

"Harry, look at me," she pleaded, touching his arm. This simple touch made Harry jump
back with a jolt, wondering if it was static electricity that had made him jump back like that,
while knowing that it was something else entirely.

"It's Ok, Hermione. Don't worry yourself over nothing," he insisted, chancing a
look at her.

"Worry myself!" Hermione scoffed. "Harry, it's what I do best. Come on,"
Hermione said, sitting down at the foot of the bed, tugging Harry down to sit next to her.

"It's nothing," Harry repeated, suddenly very desperate to get out of the room.

"Harry!" Hermione was giving him her best Professor McGonagall face.

Harry scratched his head. He hadn't had the chance to talk to anyone about his problems.
Hermione and Ron had been so wrapped up in their relationship that Harry had just learned to deal
with his own feelings on his own.

Of course, this wasn't the most normal of situations. It wasn't like Harry could go to
Hermione *or* Ron and tell them what he was going through, what he was feeling, and why he had
to break up with Cho. It wasn't like they could have solved his problem.

But here was Hermione, looking more beautiful by the day, and this was the first time they had been
alone in months. He so desperately wanted a friend right now, even if it was one he was steadily
falling for.

"You heard about how Cho and I broke up yesterday?" he said, knowing the answer.

Hermione gave him a wry smile, reaching out and taking his hand into hers. "I sort of heard
what happened already, something about Cho catching you with some...distasteful
material...?"

Harry looked at her, puzzled. "Like what?" he asked, looking so innocent it made Hermione
blush even more at the idea of the actual rumor.

"Well...you know..." Hermione said, giving Harry a very pointed look. *Jeez, he
can't be **that** daft*, she thought with some humor.

Then Harry's whole expression changed, molding from innocent inquiry, to full-blown
horror.

"You're *kidding*!" he blurted, now very red in the face as Hermione nodded.
"How in the *world* would I get that kind of stuff?" he exclaimed
incredulously.

Hermione shrugged, not really having an answer for him. "Maybe you got a subscription?"
she suggested calmly.

Harry felt his jaw drop. "Even *if* that *were* the case, which it's *not*,
I'm not nearly old enough to even *get* that kind of...Ugh! Who comes up with these ideas?
If it was Lavender-"

Harry stopped in mid-sentence, watching as Hermione burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. She
brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle the laughter, to no avail.

Hearing only the sweet music of her laughter, Harry felt slightly dazed. It took all his energy to
simply ask, "what are you laughing at?"

Harry's question was answered by more laughter, tears were streaming down Hermione's face,
and she wiped them away hastily, still giggling.

"This is the silliest conversation..." she breathed, trying to gain control of her
laughter.

Harry couldn't help it; he started to laugh, too. It took some time before either of them
calmed down enough to go back to the conversation.

"So will you tell me what really happened between you two?" she asked him, looking
trusting and sincere and everything that Harry needed at the moment.

The only problem was, *she* was the reason they had broken up. Or at least, it was his
feelings for her. But he couldn't tell her that. Hermione was with Ron, and they had been
together for nearly 6 months.

*Would I tell her even if that weren't the case*, Harry suddenly wondered, knowing full
well that whatever the circumstance, he would never reveal his deep feelings for her. Ever.

"It just...ended... I'd like to say that it was mutual, but..."

"So she broke up with you?" Hermione asked him tentatively.

Harry shook his head. "I broke up with her, believe it or not," he said, still surprised
that he actually *had* broken up with the pretty Ravenclaw.

He had wanted to do it for weeks, and he had finally gotten the courage just the day before. He was
relieved that it had been an easy break-up. Cho Chang seemed to expect it, and seemed only too
relieved that he had been the one to instigate the break-up.

"Why?" Hermione asked softly.

"Because..." Harry sighed. "Because I don't have feelings for her...I guess they
faded. I like her as a friend, of course," he added. "But nothing more, and it's been
that way for a while now."

Hermione's hand squeezed his own. "I'm really sorry, Harry. Are you OK?" she
asked him.

"Yeah," Harry said, lifting his face so his eyes could meet hers. It was an odd feeling
of completion when he looked at her. That was how this had all started, when he had started to date
Cho. Everything had been so perfect with them. Harry remembered feeling truly happy.

But then he found himself comparing Cho to Hermione. He hadn't been doing it on purpose, it
just came naturally. He realised how comfortable he felt with Cho, but it was nothing compared to
how he felt when he was with Hermione.

As he sat there, aware that Hermione was hanging on his every word, he wondered when he had
realised that he had feelings for her. He supposed it had started with the dreams. Oh...the
*dreams*! They had started innocently enough, but then he started waking up in the middle of
the night, drenched in sweat, breathing heavy, and shaking *all* over. But it wasn't a
disturbing or scary feeling. It was all pleasure, and *that* was the scary and disturbing part
of it all.

This was because Hermione wasn't a single girl. She had a boyfriend, Ron Weasley, Harry's
own best friend! Even if she *was* single, the fact that he was having *those* kinds of
dreams about her was wrong all on its own.

As though that wasn't bad enough, Harry had had a girl friend, too! And that was what brought
about the shame, the disappointment and the anger in him. He should have been a better boyfriend to
Cho. She certainly deserved better.

Harry stood up, suddenly very eager to get out of the room, and Hermione stood with him.

Hermione's cinnamon eyes met his own emerald ones, and without speaking, she went into his
arms, their embrace gentle and warm. Harry held her closely, enjoying the citrus scent of her hair,
and the faint scent of vanilla that lingered on her lips. He did not feel the guilt that came from
holding his best friend's girl friend. He didn't feel the shame at admitting his feelings
for her to himself. This was his own little secret, one that would never be set free. And he knew
that he could live with that. After all, he *was* the master of his own feelings.

"I had better get back to the library," he told her, not wanting to step away from her
warmth and the comfort of her arms. She looked up at him, not letting go and not stepping
away.

"You'd rather study then spend your time with me?" she said, smiling up at him
innocently.

"It's not a matter of preference," Harry said, the words coming out too quickly for
him to stop them.

Hermione frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry clamped firmly on his tongue, not wanting to say something that he *knew* he'd
regret. "I just mean...that I have school and stuff...it really can't wait," he told
her, stepping away from her and heading back to the door.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped, and Harry turned to find that she was glaring at him.

"I'm sorry. I really hope you have a good time with Ron," he said, opening the
door.

"Harry!"

Harry turned again, this time Hermione's hands were on her hips, but her expression was
soft.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him, and she suddenly looked very embarrassed.

"So...on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the highest, and 1 being the lowest, how would you rate
me?"

They stood there, staring at each other, frozen in time. Harry could still feel her arms around
him, he could still smell her citrus hair, and he wanted so badly to be back there, in her arms. As
he stared at her, into her very soul, he knew that there was nothing easy about his feelings for
her.

"You're off the charts, Hermione," he said, his heart hammering against his chest. He
swallowed thickly, wanting to say so much more, but the words were suddenly lost to him.

"You're simply beautiful."

And as Harry closed the door behind him, Hermione stared at the spot where he had stood as he said
those three words to her. And she wondered, ever so briefly, what he truly meant by them.

**To Be Continued...**


***

Review if you feel like it. And thanks to all for taking the time to read this!



2. Part Two
-----------

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either
copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective
owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first part to this story. It means a
*lot* to me. And because I received such a wonderful response so quickly, I'm posting the
second part almost immediately. And I also want to give a great big thank you to my beta, Gary
Skinner. You're an awesome friend, Gary.

Now for the continuation. I hope you enjoy!


***


Hermione Granger sat at her vanity table, swiping a brush through her hair, staring at her
reflection, but not really seeing it at all. As her hand mechanically moved the brush, smoothing
out the tangles and making her curls soft and shiny, her mind traveled.

It had not been an easy day. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had truly felt calm
and relaxed. She supposed it had been a month ago, before Ron’s birthday. Before she had stupidly
asked her best friend, Harry Potter, his opinion of how she looked, after dressing up specifically
for Ron, her boyfriend of 7 months.

And in the end she had received much more than she had expected. The days following Ron’s birthday
seemed to be some of the worst for Hermione. At least twice daily the same questions would pop into
her head unexpectedly:

*Am I as beautiful as Harry says? And if so, does that mean Harry **thinks** I’m beautiful? Or
was he just trying to please me? And if he wasn’t just humoring me, then why hasn’t Ron ever told
me that I’m beautiful? Why can’t Ron make me feel as amazing as Harry does? Why can’t I get a grip
on myself?*

And then the dreams had started...and Hermione was convinced that she was losing her mind. Harry
was her best friend. Ron was her boyfriend. She didn’t want to be caught in the middle! She wanted
everything to be normal. She wanted her life to be ordered, civilized, and uncomplicated.

It wasn’t until the end of March when Parvati Patil (now a very close friend to Hermione), pointed
out how exhausted she looked all the time, and how her attention in class wasn't as sharp as it
once was. Later that day, Hermione had broken down in the girls’ bathroom, and had told Parvati
everything. It was then that Hermione knew what she had to do. It was actually getting around to
doing it that was going to be the hard part. But she had gathered the nerve, only just moments
ago…

*

Ron Weasley sat in the chair which was perched in front of Hermione’s vanity table. They faced each
other as Hermione stood by her bed, her hands folded across her abdomen, her chin resting on her
chest as her eyes bore into the carpet. There was a fierce conviction about her, and a simple
refusal to meet his eyes.

“You’re right, Ron," Hermione was saying softly. "I haven’t been myself lately,” and at
this statement, Ron stood up, making his way to her. But Hermione shied away, her eyes lingering on
her ginger cat, Crookshanks, who lay sleeping on her four-poster. Hermione felt a sharp pang of
jealousy, wishing she could feel as peaceful and content as her cat did.

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked, not bothering to disguise the pain which showed clearly in
his bright blue eyes.

Hermione drew a deep breath, trying to gain some control over her thoughts and emotions. She had
dodged this scenario long enough. She didn’t want to hurt Ron. But deep down, she knew it would
eventually come to that.

“The other day...you told me that I was acting a bit...off...and I denied it. But the truth is,
Ron, there *is* something wrong. But I’m going to try to make it better,” Hermione said,
turning to him and finally meeting his eyes, which were narrowed in bewilderment.

“Hermione -- I didn’t mean to accuse you or anything...whatever you’re thinking...just...” Ron
stopped himself, staring at her helplessly. It sounded to her ears as though he already knew what
was coming.

Hermione stared at him a moment, choking on her own guilt. Never in her life had she been faced
with such a dilemma. She wished she had the strength to handle it better. Why did it have to be so
difficult?

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ron stepped in once more.

“Whatever it is, we can work through it. We’re a team, Hermione, you and I. Don’t you believe
that?” he pleaded.

Hermione’s mouth slammed shut. She, Ron and Harry were the team. Ron and Hermione were just a
couple. And as much as she hated it, she couldn’t force her feelings for Ron beyond anything but
friendship. Sure, she had *thought* that there was something...but that was just wishful
thinking, really. Everyone in her year had someone. Even Ginny had Neville! And when Harry had
started to date Cho, it seemed only natural for her to turn to Ron. But it was never what she
wanted.

She couldn’t even decide *now* what she wanted. She just knew that she had to be fair to Ron,
for the sake of their friendship.

“I care about you, Ron – *so* much,” Hermione told Ron, feeling her courage rising within
herself. She *could* do it, and she would.

“And I care about you, too, Hermione,” Ron said, looking earnest and sincere.

“But...it has to end,” she said, her insides squeezing with dread. And then she had to watch as
Ron’s face switched from a hopeful smile, to a heart-broken frown.

“I’m so…*so* sorry, Ron,” Hermione quickly added. “It’s just...”

She heard herself trailing off, and Ron looked at her expectantly, waiting to hear her rationale.
But Hermione couldn’t offer a reason. Ron was still her friend, (she hoped), and she wasn’t
prepared to tell him the truth. She wasn’t even prepared to *handle* the truth.

“It’s just what, Hermione?” Ron wondered, his tone colder than ice.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, wishing Ron would just throw a temper tantrum, his usual resort. That
was an area she could handle. She could deal with an angry Ron. She couldn’t handle a hurt
friend.

“I thought we had something good,” Ron said, his voice rising slightly higher.

Hermione felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. How could she explain to Ron that over the 7
months they dated, she hadn’t felt for him what he had obviously felt for her? *I never should
have stayed with him in the first place,* Hermione thought in a lecturing tone.

“Sometimes, Ron, things might look good if you don’t *look* for the… not-so-good stuff,”
Hermione told him, feeling quite inarticulate at the moment. “Sometimes, people will fool
themselves into believing that everything is OK, when really… things *aren't* alright. Do
you see?” She looked at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand.

“Actually, I *don't* see,” Ron admitted, and Hermione believed that he wasn’t trying to be
a git here, but that he actually didn’t understand what she was trying to say. She sighed
audibly.

“There are times, Ron… when you don’t…notice me. There are times when… I try so hard to gain your
attention and approval… that I’ll literally go out of my way to change my appearance, or do special
and different things for you. And not once did you ever notice. Not *once*.”

Ron’s brows furrowed in concentration, his mind apparently searching for those times Hermione was
speaking of. But he shook his head and gave a shrug of his shoulders, which, to the surprise of
Hermione, infuriated her.

“Last Christmas, Ron. Remember? We stayed here at Hogwarts, and that upset you, because you wanted
to go home. Do you remember that?”

“Sure I do,” Ron said, his expression turning to puzzlement.

“I felt horrible, because you wanted to go home so badly, but I made you stay behind… because even
though Harry had Cho at the time, we were *still* his best friends, and he needed us here,
whether or not he realized it. On Christmas Eve, I sneaked into the kitchens and personally cooked
you your favorite meal, your mother’s recipe, I might add.”

“And it was delicious,” Ron told her, still quite puzzled.

“But you didn’t tell me that then. And I can almost understand it now. After all, I *did* make
you stay behind, and you probably resented me during that time,” Hermione said, realizing the
memory of that guilt had never been laid to rest.

“I was angry at first…but I got over it,” Ron told her, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Did you?” Hermione said doubtfully. “Then how do you explain the following few times that exact
same thing happened?” she said before he could deny what she was accusing him of. “How do you
explain your birthday? And all the attempts I made to please you?”

“I noticed, Hermione,” Ron said softly.

“A little too late, don’t you think?” Hermione countered. “The truth is, Ron, *you* have no
interest in *me*. You never have. I’ve seen the girls you’ve goggled at over the years, and
you’ve built these unrealistic expectations of what your ideal girl should be. I’m most definitely
*not* that girl.”

“You *are* that girl –“

“Oh, no I’m not. If that were the case, then you would have made it known to me that you thought I
was at *least* pretty. But not once have you ever told me that I’m beautiful.”

Ron stared open-mouthed at Hermione, anger flashing in his eyes. “How was I supposed to know? And
besides, I thought you were *above* all of that. I thought you would realize that I never
needed to say all those mushy things just to please you.”

“I’m still a *girl*, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "How many times do I have to tell
you? Girls *like* to feel appreciated and noticed. And you’re supposed to be my
*boy*friend! I shouldn’t have to ask you to tell me when I look good, or *if* I look
good. And if other guys can say it to me, surely *you* can!”

“Oh, like Krum?” Ron sneered, and he laughed bitterly as he rolled his eyes, which only infuriated
Hermione even more.

“No!” Hermione insisted. “Like Ha-“ Hermione stopped mid-way, seconds from saying Harry’s name.
That would lead them to a whole other area that she did not want to travel to.

“Like who, Hermione? Who were you going to say?” Ron asked.

Furious with herself, Hermione folded her arms across her chest and breathed loudly through her
nose. “That’s not important. What’s important is what’s happening here and now. I *don't*
want to lose your friendship, Ron,” she said.

Ron took a step backwards, bitterness etched all over his face.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” he replied coolly.

Hermione stared at him, feeling utterly alone and helpless. And it wasn’t until then that she
realized that she *was* alone. And far from helpless, she reminded herself.

“I’m sorry that you’re angry. And I understand if you don’t want to stay friends. I just hope that
you can forgive me someday,” Hermione finally told Ron.

She wondered if Ron expected her to take back the break-up. The look on his face suggested that
thought. It was as though his last ray of shiny hope had just dissolved. His face broke into a sour
expression.

“Yeah...” Ron said, stepping backwards toward the door. “Good luck with that,” he added, before
turning and slamming out of the room.

*

Hermione abandoned her brush on her vanity table and rested her head in her hands, trying to take
some deep, reassuring breaths. She was surely going mad. She just *had* to be. Breaking up
with a boyfriend, because she had a silly little crush on her other best friend? It made no sense.
And she was *Hermione*. Hermione was the logical, dependable, realistic and reliable one. She
could make sense out of anything. She could certainly provide answers in any given situation, when
no one else could.

So where was help when *she* needed it?

Just as she thought this, a loud knock came at the door, jerking her from her own frustrated circle
of thoughts. She was glad for the opportunity to talk to anyone at this point. She made her way to
the door, opened it, and revealed her fellow Gryffindor and friend, Parvati Patil. They stood
facing each other for a moment before Hermione crumbled and Parvati stepped inside the room,
instantly wrapping her arms around the sobbing girl.

"It's alright," Parvati promised, closing the door behind her with one kick of her
foot.

"No... it's not," Hermione choked in a harsh whisper, her head buried in
Parvati's shoulder.

The darker-haired girl led Hermione to the bed and they sat down together, where Hermione brushed
away her tears and tucked her hair behind her ears. They sat still and silent for a moment, both
trying to think of what to say. Finally Parvati spoke.

"I saw Ron."

Hermione gave an uncharacteristically bitter laugh, having no idea what else to say.

"I take it things didn't go very well?" Parvati asked.

Hermione lowered her head, staring at her hands which were now resting on her lap. "He
despises me more than Draco Malfoy ever could."

Parvati looked at Hermione sympathetically. "You don't really believe that. And you
*know* he'll get over it, right? Did he really expect it to last forever?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders lazily. "I don't think he really understands the reasons
for the break-up." Hermione gave another bitter laugh. "Even *I* don't
understand! This is insane, Parvati. I'm losing my mind."

Parvati took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and softly. "One way or another, breaking up with
Ron was the right thing to do, honey. Not because you have feelings for Harry...but because you
weren't really happy. You were doing everything in your power to ensure *his* happiness,
and you let yours suffer because of it," Parvati told her. "Believe me, I know. I've
watched you, and I only recognize it because I did the exact same thing with my first
boyfriend."

Hermione sighed heavily, feeling a shiver run through her whole body as the scene with Ron replayed
in her mind. It could have gone worse, she told herself. And for some reason, that made her feel
slightly better about things.

"I can't believe...I let it drag on for so long...I can't believe I was such a fool!
And I'm *still* a fool. Trading one best friend for another...and losing one in the
process. And the whole idea is so ludicrous -- it would be different if I *knew* Harry had
feelings for me... but I don't. And I know he doesn't. He couldn't like someone as
mentally unbalanced as I am..." Hermione laughed again, this time more sincerely. "That
would make him just as crazy! What a fine pair we'd make."

"Believe what you want, but you two *would* make a fine pair, deranged or not,"
Parvati said with a smile and tilt of her head. "We all think so."

Hermione glowered at her friend, not wanting to believe in her words, but finding her heart beating
more quickly than ever at the idea of she and Harry being a couple.

"Exactly who are 'we'?" Hermione wondered.

Parvati waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, everyone... Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Neville,
Colin...the Weasley twins, Oliver Wood…"

"Oliver doesn’t even *go* to Hogwarts anymore, Parvati," Hermione interrupted.

"Exactly!" Parvati chirped. "This has been going on for some few years now... I
guess it started in second year. We all saw how concerned Harry was over your safety, you being
Muggle-born and all. I don't think *he* even realized it. That's the beauty of being
on the outside. We notice things -- things that people on the *inside* would never notice at
first. So you could imagine our surprise when you ended up with Ron. If I may be so bold...you two
were extremely wrong for each other. There's no other way around it."

Hermione took a moment to absorb what Parvati was saying. Then, after a moment: "You were all
*gossiping* about us?" she asked sharply.

"You're missing the entire point, Hermione."

The Prefect sighed, bowing her head again. "What am I going to do? I can't...do
*any*thing. Even if there was a shred of hope where Harry is concerned, it would be wrong of
me. I have to keep Ron's feelings in check."

Parvati sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Once the rumors start up, Hermione..."

Hermione's head shot up at this vague statement. "Yes?" she asked sharply.

Parvati raised her left hand defensively. "I'm not saying that *I'm* going to
start any rumors. I'm saying that our classmates are *not* stupid. Think of it this way,
Hermione: Last Fall Harry started to date Cho. A month later, and you were suddenly -- and
*very* unexpectedly, I might add – paired up with Ron. Harry broke up with Cho a month ago. A
month later – today, to be exact -- you broke up with Ron. What makes you think that people won’t
put two and two together? What makes you think that Harry *and* Ron won’t assume that you
broke up with Ron to be with Harry?”

Hermione felt her face grow hot in embarrassment. The thought of Harry catching a hint of those
rumors... She couldn't bear the humiliation.

"People have too much time on their hands," Hermione grumbled.

"Yes. I agree. My best friend is one of them, remember? She's made a *lot* of enemies
because of her mouth, and after all this time, you'd think Lavender would learn her
lessons," Parvati said.

Hermione didn't answer. She was too caught up in what *could* happen, that she found it
difficult to think of anything else. Would her classmates figure out her reasons for breaking up
with Ron? Would Harry believe them, if it came to that?

“I know I sound harsh, Hermione. I just don’t want you to get hurt by what the kids around here
might say about you. I guess…I’m just trying to prepare you for the worst. And I will do
*every*thing in my power to squash any rumors, whether they’re true or not,” Parvati assured
her with a kind smile. “I’m one of your closest friends, and everyone at Hogwarts knows it. They
have no choice but to believe what I tell them.”

Hermione felt herself on the verge of tears again. "What am I going to do, Parvati? How did I
get myself into this mess?"

The other girl sighed, slowly shaking her head from one side to the other. "That's what
happens when you choose two guys to be your best friends," Parvati said, a teasing grin
lighting up her pretty face.

Hermione glowered. "You're not helping," she muttered.

Parvati straightened her back, her deep brown eyes growing serious. "Then listen to this,
Hermione: Ron loves you. He is and always has been your friend, and always will be. He truly
respects you. And if he cherishes your friendship as much as I think he does, he won't let you
go so easily. Let him lick his wounds for a few days, a couple of weeks...however long it takes.
It's important to give him his space. But don't wait too long. Eventually, things
*will* go back to normal for you both."

Hermione nodded.

"As for Harry," Parvati continued, "you need to talk with him. You need to tell
him."

"I can't!" Hermione exclaimed. "After what just happened with me and Ron? I can
*not* risk losing another friendship. I can't jeopardize my friendship with
Harry."

"And what makes you think you will? You and Ron didn't work out because you *had*
feelings for Harry. If not for that, who knows where you'd be right now?" Parvati
said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not here," she mouthed.

"The point is," Parvati said, "you didn't follow your heart with Ron. You love
him as a friend, but unfortunately, that's not enough. And for a long time now, your heart has
been elsewhere."

"With Harry," Hermione whispered.

Parvati nodded with emphasis. "With Harry. Exactly. And of all people, he deserves to know. He
*needs* to know. And you *need* to tell him."

Hermione raised one eyebrow skeptically. "How do you know that I do?"

Parvati gave her a confident grin, reflecting knowledge and wisdom. "Trust me, honey.
You'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't tell him how you feel. Do you
really want that?"

Hermione sighed, feeling exhausted. "I don't know what I want. I want things the way they
were. I want... to be with Harry. I want my life to revolve around school, and not around romance
...boys ... Can't I have … any of that?"

Parvati leaned forward, her hand reaching out to smooth down Hermione's hair.
"Hermione...honey... You may be a witch. You may be the smartest witch at Hogwarts. But you
are *still* a teenager."

Hermione sulked. "I knew you'd say that."

"You aren't the most intelligent girl at Hogwarts for nothing, hon," Parvati
teased.

"I knew you'd say that, too."

*

“Where is everyone?”

Hermione looked up from her spot on the crimson sofa, where she sat in front of the empty
fireplace. Harry Potter had just entered the common room, a couple of textbooks under one arm, a
few rolls of parchment in the other. He placed his things on the end table, and dropped down next
to Hermione, smiling brightly at her.

“Hogsmeade, Harry,” Hermione answered. It was a warm, breezy Saturday afternoon in late April.
Three weeks had passed since her break-up with Ron, and she couldn’t find it in herself to head
into the wizarding town with the rest of her classmates. She told everyone that she needed to catch
up on her schoolwork, and get down to some serious studying time, as the O.W.L.’s were fast
approaching. But she found she didn’t have the energy to actually study.

Hermione wished she could be more like Harry, who lately seemed to devote virtually all of his time
to studying. She had never seen him like this before. At the beginning, she knew he was focused on
studying only to keep his mind off Cho, the break-up, and to avoid his classmates and their
ridiculous questions. Nowadays, things hadn't changed with him. His break-up with Cho and all
the rumors had faded only weeks after the actual 'event,' and still, he remained obsessed
with studying. Hermione couldn't help but wonder -- more than ever -- what was really going on
with him.

“Oh…right,” Harry said, peering at Hermione curiously. “Why didn’t you go?”

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. “I felt that my time would be better spent studying.”

Harry grinned at her, making her heart flutter madly beneath her ribcage.

“I don’t see any school books lying about. Do you?” he observed, still grinning.

Hermione rolled her eyes, slightly horrified that she had been caught in her lie. “I was studying
upstairs...I left my books up there, because... I was planning...on...going out for some fresh
air...” she told him, silently praying that Harry wouldn't get too suspicious.

“Alright, then," Harry said cheerfully, "let’s go for a walk,” he agreed enthusiastically
as he stood up, looking down at her.

She felt her face redden, picturing the two of them walking hand in hand, outside and around the
lake, the bright and warm sun beating down on them...

“Hermione?”

She shook herself from her daydream and looked up at Harry.

“OK,” she agreed, and he held out a hand to her, pulling her to her feet.

As they made their way outside, Hermione noticed her mind was wavering over the details of the past
few weeks. She, Ron and Harry were back to being the "Dream Team." Ron was still
distancing himself from Hermione, but she expected that. There were times when Ron treated her as
though nothing had happened between them, and that they were back to being just friends -- in the
days before they had dated. It was in those moments when Ron would catch himself, as if he was just
remembering that he was supposed to be angry with her. It was also those moments which gave
Hermione all the hope she needed to assure herself that things could and *would* go back to
normal.

As far as Harry was concerned, she had not yet told him of her feelings, and she desperately tried
to push those thoughts to the back of her mind, so she could forget about them. Parvati had been
right about the rumors. As soon as everyone had discovered the latest "news" of Hermione
and Ron's break-up, they had all managed to conjure the most ridiculous rumors, all pointing to
the idea that Hermione had broken up with Ron to be with Harry. And all of which were true, she
added to herself.

The first few days after the break-up were the most strenuous, as Hermione received scornful looks
from Ron, and as she continually worried that Harry believed in the latest buzz. Hermione hadn’t
talked to Harry about her break-up with Ron, and she knew without a doubt that she couldn’t face
the humiliation of Harry believing in the rumors.

Three weeks had now passed, and all the Hogwarts students (with no lives) no longer seemed to be
interested in Hermione's affairs. And as she walked alongside Harry, over the grassy (and
sometimes muddy) lawns outside the castle, Hermione realized that this was the first time she and
Harry had been alone since her break-up. Maybe now *was* a good time to bring up the rumors,
and discuss them in a mature fashion. It would give Hermione the opportunity to discover whether
Harry believed in the gossip or not; and if he did, then she could attempt to dissuade him from the
truth.

"Thanks for taking me out of the castle, Harry," Hermione said, truly glad to feel the
warm sun beating down on her. Every time spring started up again, she always felt that unique
tingle in her skin. It always made her feel like anything was possible, and everything was
beautiful and glorious in the world. For her, it was the start of something new and wondrous. It
was an exquisite feeling.

Harry nodded slowly. "I figured this would give us a good opportunity to talk, one on one,
where no prying ears can listen."

"We do need to talk," Hermione agreed softly.

"Did you want to go first?" Harry offered, his eyes searching hers.

"I think that's best," Hermione said, tearing her gaze from his own. The last thing
she needed was Harry reading her heart through her eyes. She knew he could, if he wanted to. And
that terrified her. "There's something we've needed to discuss, and we can't keep
avoiding it forever. I need to know the truth, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened considerably. For a brief second, Hermione caught a glimpse of fear in his
bright emeralds, but the second ended too quickly for her to get a good reading on it. He masked
his fear with indifference, leaving her extremely puzzled.

"I need to know... if you believe the rumors, Harry," Hermione said.

After a moment, a sigh escaped Harry's lips. Hermione could have sworn it was a sigh of relief.
Why would Harry be relieved? She was feeling more confused by the second.

"Oh--You mean about you being in love with me?” Harry told her. “Blimey, Hermione. You could
have *told* me," Harry replied while rolling his eyes playfully at her.

She jabbed him in the arm, glaring up at him. "Don't poke fun at me, Potter! I know things
about you that you don't want others to know... And I'm not afraid to use that
information."

"Blackmail!" Harry gasped dramatically. "I didn't think that was your style,
Granger."

"Yes, well…a girl must do what a girl must do in desperate situations.” She grew serious
again. “And this is something that has been bothering me,” she told him. “More than I’d like to
admit,” she added under her breath.

Harry looked at her, his brows narrowed to show his seriousness. "Why would it bother
you?"

"Because...we've been through this last year, with Rita Skeeter, remember? I guess I'm
just wondering--"

"I know the rumors aren't true, Hermione. Is that what you're worried
about?"

Hermione ducked her head to hide her embarrassment. "Yeah... But can you blame me?" she
asked rhetorically.

They passed the Quidditch pitch, where a group of second years were flying around on borrowed
school brooms, tossing a Quaffle between them. Harry looked on in the distance, his face fixed in a
thoughtful expression. Then:

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to break up with Ron? I mean, don't get me
wrong--" he added, as Hermione's eyes narrowed, "--I know it's none of my
business. But I know you must have been hurting inside. Why did you feel you couldn't come to
me?" His eyes looked at her softly and pleadingly.

Hermione felt her heart tugging in all sorts of directions. She had never considered that Harry
would actually feel disappointed that she hadn't confided in him. In one way, it was kind of
sweet. She was not, of course, ready to reveal to him the *real* reason why she couldn't
go to him.

"You were going through your own problems at the time, remember?" Hermione answered.
"And besides, the last thing I wanted to do was drag you into my own mess. Ron's your best
friend, too, you know."

"And so are you," Harry pointed out. "I don't *ever* want you to feel you
can't come to me, OK? I'm always here for you, no matter what. Alright?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Alright."

"So why *did* you break up with Ron?" Harry wondered. The words came out so
suddenly, Hermione wondered if that was a question he had been dying to ask for weeks.

"Well..." Hermione pondered, wondering what she should tell him. "I guess I'll
borrow the same reason you gave me, Harry. I simply don't have feelings for him
anymore."

Harry's eyes, which were once trained on hers, suddenly flickered away. His mouth gave a
nervous twitch.

"Right..." he said slowly, his brows narrowing. "About that. I need to tell you
something, Hermione."

Hermione looked up at him, watching his jaw muscles clench tightly. “You don’t sound very
enthusiastic about what you want to tell me,” she said.

Harry straightened his shoulders and looked at her apologetically. "Well, that's because I
lied to you before. And -- I want to tell you the truth, because you deserve to know.

"You remember why I broke up with Cho, right?" He waited for Hermione to nod before he
continued. "That's what I lied about, Hermione. It wasn't because I didn't have
feelings for her. Well--yeah, I guess I didn't. But there's more. The thing is--I have
feelings for someone else."

Hermione felt her heart plummet, her insides twisting with dread and frustration. How could that be
his reason? How could he like someone else?

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

Hermione snapped out of her never-ending questions and looked up into Harry's face, which was
now full of concern and worry. *Oh, great,* she thought miserably. *If I don't get
myself into shape, Harry will figure out why I'm upset.* With determination, she screwed up
her face into an expression of nonchalance.

"So...this girl. Were you... I mean -- were you... messing around on Cho?" Hermione asked
with a shrug of her shoulders.

"WHAT?!" Harry exclaimed, his face growing crimson. "Hermione! Of *course*
not!"

Hermione raised her shoulders again. "OK! I had to ask, didn't I?" she said,
forgetting to disguise the bitterness in her voice. She felt the anger eating away at her, and she
hated it. "So, who is she? Do I know her?"

Harry waited a few seconds to answer, still trying to get over her last absurd question.
"Yeah, you know her," he finally said.

The fury and sourness she had once felt now seemed to triple, as it continued to boil somewhere
deep within. It stung behind her eyes, creating tears of rage which she feared she wouldn't be
able to control. She had never felt this way before, not even in all the arguments she had had with
Ron in the past, or all the things Rita Skeeter had said about Harry, Hagrid, or even herself. She
knew this was a different kind of anger. She knew it was jealousy that was now tormenting her,
eating away at her.

"You know her pretty well, actually," Harry added.

"So, she's in Gryffindor?" Hermione guessed softly, fighting the pain and the tears
which were sure to come. There was only one happy thought floating through her mind: That she
hadn’t told Harry about her feelings. But the thought was so insignificant, so tiny and useless,
that it counted for very little compared to all the other angry thoughts running through her
head.

"Yeah," Harry answered, his expression growing more worried by the second.

"In our year?" Hermione wondered.

"You're pretty good at this guessing thing, Hermione.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Is she pretty?” Dumb question, Hermione, she thought angrily. Of
*course* she’s pretty!

But Harry’s response surprised her. “Anyone can be pretty, Hermione, with the right amount of
make-up and the perfect clothes. But this girl is beautiful. Her spirit is what shines through.
She’s intelligent, and kind, sensitive and thoughtful…”

“She sounds like a real winner,” Hermione said, in a deadened voice, no longer caring if Harry
noticed or not.

“Oh, she is,” Harry agreed with enthusiasm, apparently not noticing Hermione’s mood.

*Or deliberately ignoring it*, Hermione thought to herself. Harry continued talking about the
mystery girl, but she was far from interested. She felt nauseated, and wanted nothing more than to
escape Harry’s incessant ramblings.

"I have to go," Hermione suddenly said, in a voice barely above a whisper. She didn't
blame Harry. She put herself at fault, for actually *believing* that it could ever work out
with him. But she was a fool, and nothing less. She was no more than one of Harry's fans, and
she despised herself for it.

"What? Hermione -- Why?" Harry asked, puzzlement crossing his face.

"I'm sorry...I just...I should really get back to studying. I'll see you later,"
she promised as she turned towards the castle.

"Yeah... If you say so..." she heard Harry mutter as she walked away. She could swear
right then and there that she heard the door to her heart slam forever. The pain was too much for
her. She didn’t look back as she walked as fast as possible to the castle.

Harry stared after Hermione, watching her brown head bobbing in the distance. He sighed, running a
shaky hand through his raven hair. He had nearly told her everything. From his feelings about her,
to how much he wanted to *be* with her. And she had run away. And his thoughts came to only
one conclusion: She knew exactly what he was going to say, and to spare him the rejection, she ran.
It would be just like Hermione to figure out that he had feelings for her. And he was a regular
crackpot to think he ever had a chance with her.

*If we're just going to be friends, that's good enough for me*, he thought, while his
heart ached at the idea. He didn't feel much like going back to the castle, and Hagrid's
hut was only a little way off. He hadn't visited him in a while. Maybe *he* could help
shed some light on the situation.


**To Be Continued...**



3. Part Three
-------------

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either
copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective
owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Here is the final part to this story, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
I never really considered the first two parts as "angst" but since you guys do,
that's awesome! I never really thought I *could* write angst. Ah well. Anyway, thanks for
all your support, guys. It means so much to me, and without it, I probably couldn't continue
posting. And keep in mind: this story is AU!

Enjoy!


***


“It’s about time you got here.”

Harry Potter heard the familiar and welcoming voice before he even got a chance to enter the caves
located on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. He was visiting his godfather for the last time before the
term was over.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to shake off Ron and Hermione… It wasn’t easy,” Harry said, as he handed
Sirius Black his backpack, which was full of food from the Hogwarts kitchens. As always, the
house-elves were more than happy to provide.

For the first time ever, Harry was visiting his godfather alone. And for the first time since Ron
and Hermione broke up, the two were going to be alone in Hogsmeade together. He hoped that they
could handle it. Harry knew that he was selfish in wanting to spend time with his godfather alone,
but it couldn’t be helped. For the first time ever, he actually wanted advice about a girl. And he
had a thought that Sirius was probably the only one who’d be able to help him.

Sirius rummaged through the bag before pulling out what he had hoped to find.

“You brought them!” Sirius cried, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as the older wizard bit into a
bright red apple, taking a huge chunk out of the side. Sirius sighed and moaned, taking pleasure in
the sweet taste he hadn’t experienced in many, many years.

“Compliments of Dobby, the house-elf,” Harry said as he sat down on the stony ground. He leaned
back against the cave walls, bringing his knees up to his chest as he watched his godfather. Sirius
finished the apple in five more bites and tossed the core to the side.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Sirius said, regarding his godson with a look Harry didn’t
recognize.

Harry gave Sirius a puzzled look. “Do what? Sneak into the kitchens and get you food? I told you
–“

“No, not that, Harry,” Sirius said, cutting him off. “I mean… everything.” He continued piercing
Harry with the same strange, knowing look.

“And what is ‘everything’?” Harry wondered.

Sirius leaned back against the opposite wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. He took
another long look at Harry before saying, “I’m talking about Hermione.”

Harry sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I see…” he replied. “And what is it about
her that you don’t understand?”

“It’s not *her* that I don’t understand. It’s *you*. I don’t get how you can go day by
day, knowing how you feel about her, and feeling what you feel for her, yet…*not* telling
her.”

Harry smiled bitterly to himself. “Oh… I manage,” he said.

“I know how you manage. You’re not the only one who’s been visiting me.”

Harry looked sharply at Sirius, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t even need to ask.

“Hermione’s worried about you,” Sirius explained. “She says you spend all your time in the library,
and you hardly socialize anymore.”

Harry shrugged. “That’s not *all* true,” he argued in his defense. “It’s not like I dropped
Quidditch or anything.”

“That’s what I told Hermione,” Sirius said. “And that seemed to make her feel a little better. But
it still doesn’t explain your behavior. For her, at least.”

“She shouldn’t have come to you in the first place,” Harry muttered. “If she was that concerned
about me, she should have come to me.”

“And what would you have told her, Harry?” Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged again. “I dunno… Something. Anything.”

“She cares about you, Harry. And she worries. Most of all, she worries *about* you. Now, you
don’t have to explain it to me. I already know what’s going on.”

Harry grinned. “Now you sound like a very *blunt* version of Dumbledore. He may know almost
everything, but at least he doesn’t *flaunt* it.”

Choosing to ignore this statement, Sirius pressed on. “What’s eating at you, Harry? And don’t tell
me it’s nothing, because I know better. Just tell me the truth.”

Harry didn’t look at Sirius, seeming more fascinated by the loose thread in his t-shirt than
anything else. “What am I supposed to say? I’m simply stressed out by school…and stuff,” he told
him.

“And stuff?” Sirius repeated with raised brows. “Meaning Hermione, right?”

“Maybe…” Harry replied slowly.

Sirius leaned back slightly, observing his godson with renewed interest. “You’re terrified to tell
her how you feel,” he stated.

“To say the least.”

“Because?” Sirius prompted.

Harry shrugged. “If *you* were infatuated with a girl, and you were too terrified to tell her,
what would be *your* reason?” he asked.

Sirius grinned, not at all perturbed by Harry’s frustration. “Then you fear rejection?”

Harry sighed with a touch of impatience. “She’s *Hermione*! Why would she want to have
*any*thing to do with me?”

In spite of Harry’s confusion and fury, Sirius couldn’t bite back a smile, which only infuriated
the younger wizard even more.

“She’s just a girl, Harry,” Sirius told him.

“No, she’s not,” Harry argued. “She’s—she’s—“

Sirius inclined his head, urging Harry to continue what he obviously couldn’t put into words. Harry
groaned in frustration, throwing his head back and accidentally banging it on the stone walls. He
rubbed the soreness from his head while Sirius chuckled.

“There just aren’t enough words to fully describe Hermione. She’s one-of-a-kind, and she deserves
nothing but the best,” Harry finally finished.

“And what makes you think you don’t fit that description?” Sirius asked.

Harry tossed his godfather a pointed look. “Look at me. I’m a mess. I’m a load of problems no girl
should have to put up with.”

“I see,” Sirius said with a thoughtful look in his eye. “In other words, you’ve already decided for
Hermione whom she should end up with?”

“I haven’t decided *for* her. I just know that *I'm* not it,” Harry corrected
automatically.

“And does *she* get any say in this?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and then decided he didn’t know what to say.

“The thing is, Harry,” Sirius continued, pressing his hands together, “the choice *is* hers,
not yours, no matter what you think and no matter what you say. The other thing is: you’ve been
spending your time believing that Hermione would never return your feelings. You’ve probably played
it over in your head so many times that you couldn’t possibly be convinced otherwise. But there’s
one thing you forgot to consider.”

Harry shook his head in confusion. “What?” he asked.

Sirius leaned forward, pinning Harry to his spot with his dark eyes. “What if she *does* have
feelings for you? Will you let the opportunity slide? Or will you follow your heart?”

Harry sat in his spot, stunned by the main question. He didn’t know what to think or what to say.
Deep down, a part of him knew that Sirius was right. And one thing was for sure—Sirius had
certainly given him a *lot* to think about.


*



“I know your secret.”

Hermione spun around, the lid to her trunk slamming closed in the process as she faced the doorway
to her dorm. Ron stood there, casually leaning against the door frame.

“Ron? What are you doing here?” she asked, not fully understanding the knowing look in Ron’s
eyes.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Ron asked.

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her frizzy hair. “I’m…packing…” she said, hoping this
sufficed as a reason *not* to invite him in. There was something about his smile and his
casual demeanor that left a feeling of doom in the pit of her stomach. Whatever Ron wanted, she
didn’t want anything to do with it.

Ron clucked his tongue, sighing dramatically. “If it were Harry standing here, you would have
invited *him* in,” he told her.

Hermione suddenly found herself wishing Harry *were* there. Why was Ron acting this way?

“If you want to come in, come in,” Hermione finally said, waving her hand weakly in
invitation.

Ron grinned, but it wasn’t a friendly grin. It vaguely reminded her of Draco Malfoy, and the fact
that Ron could *ever* remind her of Malfoy made the situation even more disturbing.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” Ron asked as he shuffled slowly into the room.

Hermione raised her brows at the youngest male Weasley. “Why are you here, Ron?”

Ron sat down on the corner of her bed, acting as though he had full rights to be there. She didn’t
want him there at all.

“As I said moments earlier: I know your secret. But I don’t want *you* to worry. Your secret
is safe with me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I don’t have any secrets.”

Ron kept grinning at her, and the next instant, it hit her. Hard. He knew about Harry, and her
feelings for him. How he knew, she didn’t know. And just by looking at him, she knew he had
realized what *she* had realized.

“Again—your secret is safe with me,” Ron told her in a sickly sweet tone. “But you can imagine my
surprise when I discovered that you broke up with *me* to be with *him*. Then again—why
should I be surprised? He *is* ‘the boy who lived’ isn’t he? The hero *always* gets the
girl, right?”

At first, Hermione felt horrible that Ron had figured out the truth. She wanted him to be spared of
the pain she had caused him. She wanted to have his friendship back. But as Ron continued to speak,
her guilt hardened to anger, and she wanted to Curse him so badly it made her eyes sting.

“I don’t know *how* you found out, Ron. But I’m not going feel guilty over something that I
have no control over. Furthermore, I don’t owe you *any* explanations. Now please, Ron…get
out.”

Ron’s fake smile ate at her as he stood up calmly once again, making his way towards the door. “You
should learn to treat me nicely, Hermione. You never know what information might *accidently*
slip to a certain raven-haired, emerald-eyed boy we all know.”

“Is that a threat?” Hermione asked as she turned to face him, hands on hips. “You promised you
wouldn’t say anything. You realize that you’re alienating yourself from the rest of us, don’t you?
Ron—this isn’t you.”

“Maybe it is, Hermione,” Ron told her before making his exit.

Hermione felt like cursing. Things had been going so well over the past month! Why did Ron have to
spoil everything? *How* had he even found out? She decided that wasn’t the important question
at the point. The real question was: How would she tell Harry about her feelings, before Ron
did?


*


The last full day at Hogwarts brought sun, warmth, and a gentle breeze playing through the trees,
as Harry sat at the lake’s shore, watching the wind rippling over the water. And like clockwork, he
thought mostly of how much he didn’t want to go home to the Dursleys, and of how much he’d miss his
school, his friends... and most of all,Hermione.

“It’s going to be just you and me, Hedwig,” Harry murmured gloomily as he ran a finger along his
snowy owl’s wing. Hedwig gave a soft hoot.

“Only for a couple of months, Harry.”

Harry looked up to see Hermione approaching him from the side. The look of sadness on her face
mirrored his own feelings exactly. She clearly didn’t want to leave, either. But at least she would
be going home to a loving family.

“Hi, Hedwig,” Hermione greeted, sitting next to Harry in the grass. She brought her knees up to her
chest, resting her chin on her knees as she stared into the lake.

Hedwig gave another hoot, spread her wings, and took off into the clear blue sky. Harry and
Hermione sat still, side-by-side, simply enjoying each other’s company.

“It’s been a crazy year,” Hermione told him softly, without actually looking at him.

“Yes, it has,” Harry agreed.

“Do you think next year will be just as mad?” Hermione asked.

Harry grinned, laughing softly through his nose. “It wouldn’t be Hogwarts otherwise, would it?” was
his rhetorical reply as he finally turned to face her.

Her head turned at the same time, and they both shared a smile that made them weak in the
knees.

Harry took this moment to admire and memorize exactly the way Hermione looked in that moment. The
sun shone in her eyes, bringing out different hues he had never noticed before, mostly because he
had never bothered to notice before now. The sun also brought out red highlights from her usually
chestnut colored hair, and as he took in her entire appearance, he realized with a stab in his
chest that it would be two whole months before he saw her again. He didn’t actually believe he
would survive it.

Hermione had been the one bright spot in his life at Hogwarts. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he
felt something inside him when he thought of her, when he looked at her, when he dreamed about her.
It was a wonderful feeling, and he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to it if he was
separated from her. Would the feeling disappear? Would it fade? *Could* it fade? He sometimes
wondered what the feeling meant. He knew he had strong feelings for her—he’d be a fool to even deny
that fact to himself. But could this strong feeling inside him mean something deeper?

Looking at her, Harry secretly thought that she had never looked so beautiful. He wanted to drill
that into his mind. He decided at that moment he didn’t want the feeling inside him to drift away.
He wanted it to grow stronger, and develop into something he knew he would never feel for anyone
else. How could he make that happen?

“Do you think you can do me a favor?” Harry asked, an idea hitting him. He felt his heart thumping
anxiously beneath his ribcage.

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed cheerfully.

Harry hesitated, not wanting to meet Hermione’s eager and happy smile.

“Come on, Harry…” Hermione urged, bumping his shoulder with her own. “You can ask me
anything.”

“Alright…” Harry said slowly. “I was wondering…if you could call me this summer. At the
Dursleys.”

Hermione nodded. “I can do that.”

“A lot,” added Harry.

This time Hermione frowned, and Harry’s heart plummeted with dread. “Of course I’ll call you. I’ll
call you as often as possible. I promise, Harry,” she told him, hearing the distinct note of
desperation in his voice.

Harry heard himself sighing with relief.

“Can I ask why?” Hermione asked.

Harry felt sick with nervousness. Sirius’ words were echoing in his mind, and he wondered if he had
been right. Could Hermione have feelings for him? Had all those rumors been right? One way or
another, he knew he had to tell her how he felt, at least before they were separated for the entire
summer.

“Because, Hermione…” Harry began. “I don’t think I can last two months…without…hearing your voice.”
As he said the final words, his eyes met hers, and Hermione found herself feeling weak and shaky
all over. There was a certain quality in his eyes that made her heart pound.

“Why?” she breathed.

Neither of them were aware of just how close together they were drawing. In the back of Harry’s
mind, he knew he only had to tilt his head another inch to kiss her.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said shyly.

Hermione smiled, inching slowly toward him, not thinking clearly of what she was doing.

“Enlighten me,” she said softly.

With no further thoughts, Harry pressed his lips to Hermione’s, and they shared the most tender of
all kisses. Her hand gently reached up to touch the side of his face as they both reveled in the
moment they had each been waiting for, a waiting period that had lasted too long.

As the short and sweet kiss ended they each pulled back, and Harry took Hermione’s hand into his,
looking deeply into her eyes with a smile that sent her heart rocking beneath her ribs.

“The thing is…I think I might be in love with you, Hermione.” As he said the words, he knew how
true they were, and just how deeply he meant them.

Hermione was in a dream. The one thing she never expected Harry to say to her had actually been
said. She wanted to freeze this moment, and the wonderful sensations she felt inside. Her heart was
soaring! In this moment, she doubted anything could bring her down.

“Oh…” she sighed in realization.

Harry drew his head back slightly, his eyes frowning in puzzlement.

Hermione giggled, and soon enough her giggles transformed into a long, twinkling burst of
laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked her, while secretly enjoying the sound of her laughter.

After Hermione managed to gather her composure once more, she looked at Harry shyly, a slight smile
still tracing her lips as she formed her thoughts together.

“Do you remember telling me that you broke up with Cho because you had feelings for another girl?”
she asked him timidly.

“Of course I do. I was *trying* to tell you how I feel about you. I was hoping you’d just
guess, so I wouldn’t have to cope with *how* to tell you.”

“So it *was* me?” Hermione asked, her voice full of surprise.

“Of *course* it was,” Harry laughed, his eyes lighting up with joy. “Hermione…it’s always been
you.”

Hermione favored him with a sweet, warm smile. “It’s always been you, Harry,” she told him.

As she said the words, Harry’s face lit up, and she could clearly see in his eyes how truly and
deeply his affections for her went. She felt a swell of relief, contentment and peace that she
hadn’t known in a very long time. But then the cynical voice in the back of her head started
speaking more clearly, and it made her question everything that she felt for Harry. Could she
really *love* Harry? What did she know about love? Logically, she was only 15 years old. She
had the experience of *one* relationship with her.

“But—Harry—“ she said, in a voice full of worry and dread. But she was cut off long before she
could sort out her thoughts into words, as Harry placed a single finger on her lips, silencing her
immediately.

“Don’t start to argue it now,” he told her, the encouraging smile on his face and the confidence in
his eyes strengthening her nerve. “I know what’s going through your mind. But the thing is,
Hermione, when it comes to love, there *is* no logic. It simply…is.”

Hermione smiled in return, her heart squeezing with happiness. “I can agree with that,” she said
warmly.

“Good,” Harry replied. “Then tell me, Miss Granger…What do we do now?”

“We hope and pray that the next two months go by as fast as possible…so we can be together in
September,” said Hermione, her heart suddenly not feeling as light as it once did.

“And we have less than 24 hours before we leave. In which case, we’re together *now*. What
would *you* like to do?” Harry asked, a devilish twinkle in his eye that made Hermione turn to
butter.

“Let’s watch the sun go down,” Hermione suggested, reveling in the feel of Harry’s arms around her
as he pulled her closer. Her own arms circled around his frame, and she rested her head on his
chest. “That way… whenever you watch the sun set during the summer, I’ll be with you every
time.”

Harry smiled, feeling a welcoming rush of warmth spread through him.

“You’re always with me, Hermione,” Harry told her, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

“And I always will be,” she promised, snuggling up to him.

They sat in silence as the sun began to set, and Harry sighed contentedly, thinking of how simple
and beautiful life was once again.


*


*'Dear Snuffles,

This is just one more note before we all head back ‘home’ for the holidays. We’re all packed to go,
and I’ve already started the countdown to when I’ll be back here at Hogwarts. I’m hoping next term
will bring your freedom. Sometimes, that’s all I can think about.

Other times, all I can think about is Hermione. And by the way, you were right. I told her about my
feelings, and it turns out she has feelings for me, too. Actually, she just admitted to me not too
long ago that at the moment I told her about **my** feelings, she was going to tell me about
hers. She also admitted to being extremely relieved that she didn’t have to be the first to bring
it up. I can’t say that I blame her! She **also** made sure to mention that she told **you**
about her feelings for me during one of her visits with you. Thanks for keeping that information
from me. (That was sarcasm—in case you didn’t catch it). Merlin forbid you make life easier for me.
You’d better hope I don’t have my wand with me the next time I see you. I might be tempted to use
one of my more “interesting” hexes on you. (That was a joke, Snuffles!)

Anyway, Hermione and I are very happy. I don’t know how Ron feels about everything. He’s been
pretty closed off the past little while. I’m starting to get confused. At one point it seemed like
Hermione and Ron were getting along just like old times. That was…until very recently. Hermione
hasn’t said anything about it, so that makes me wonder if I’m just imagining things. I’m starting
to think that life will never be the same. On one hand, I feel like being with Hermione will only
make things worse for those around us. But on the other hand, being with Hermione is the best thing
that has ever happened to me. I feel like…as long as I have her, I can cope with anything, and if
anyone else has a problem with that, oh well. That sounds selfish, I know. But what am I supposed
to do?

I think that’s all I can write for now. My roommates are leaving for the carriages as I’m writing
this. Hopefully by the time you write back, I’ll have everything sorted out. Like I said, I have
Hermione. I can take on the world.

Take care of yourself,

Harry

P.S. Thanks for the advice. I'll talk to you soon.'*

Sirius rolled up the letter with a smile on his face. And without further thought, he dashed over
to his secret stash and pulled out some clean parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink which Harry
had supplied him with during his visits. He then sat down in his cave, by the light of the sun, and
started his reply, the smile never leaving his face.


*


Ron tapped softly on Hermione’s bedroom door, hearing her tossing last-minute objects into her
trunk.

“Come in!” she called, and he opened the door, slightly shaking with fear that she might Curse him
the moment her eyes landed on him.

“Hermione,” Ron greeted, and she spun around to face him, her face twisted into an expression of
absolute hatred.

“Get out,” she ordered, a solitary finger pointed at the doorway.

“I need to explain!” Ron insisted.

“Tell someone who cares,” Hermione said, mustering up the patience to deal with Ron.

“*You* care, Hermione. You always care,” Ron told her, his eyes pleading for her to
understand, to just give him a moment of her time.

“You can’t sweet-talk me, Ron,” Hermione replied. “If you want to act like a Malfoy, you get
treated like one.”

“I faked it. That wasn’t *me*.”

“Maybe it is, Ron,” Hermione retorted, throwing his words back in his face.

“It was the only way—“

“To *what*? Make me do whatever you wanted? I can’t believe you would sink so low.”

“Hermione, I’ve known about your feelings for Harry for a while. But what *you* don’t know is
that it didn’t bother me. I wasn’t doing it to be a genuine prat…I was doing it to get over my
pain. I know. It’s selfish either way.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione snapped impatiently.

Ron realized at this point that he had Hermione’s attention. And though she may hate him later on,
he needed to get it out *now*, before too much time stretched between them. Before their
friendship truly became irreparable.

“It’s no secret that I hurt quite a bit after you broke up with me. I don’t deal with pain well…I
don’t deal with rejection well. And Ginny told me… that the only way to get over the pain and
finally heal…was to turn the pain into something selfless. She told me to turn it into happiness,
to do something good for someone else, so I could be proud of myself. I thought she was mad at the
time. But then… I started to see what she meant.

"When I discovered your feelings for Harry, and I realized that he felt the same way about
you, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to *truly* put myself through the test. I
thought—if I could handle you and Harry being together, then I wouldn’t hurt anymore. So…I acted
like the jealous ex boyfriend…I acted like *Malfoy* because I knew it was the only way to
really get your attention.”

“Why didn’t you just *tell* me how Harry felt?” Hermione asked, not knowing what to make of
Ron’s story.

“Because that would be a complete betrayal as a best mate, right? It’s the same reason I couldn’t
tell Harry how *you* felt.”

“So you…tricked me…so I could *be* with Harry?”

“Exactly,” Ron sighed, glad to be rid of the burden of his secret.

Hermione felt the anger build up inside, and she was unable to control it as she exploded with
rage.

“Are you MAD?!” she shrieked.

Ron flinched, stepping backwards as Hermione advanced on him, her eyes flashing, her face reddening
in a hellish fury.

“A little,” Ron mumbled, knowing any response at this moment would do him no good.

“That is the most DANGEROUS, RIDICULOUS, IDIOTIC theory I have EVER heard. What if Harry DIDN’T
have feelings for me, and I made a FOOL of myself? Did you EVER think about that?”

“Of course I did!” Ron insisted. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it otherwise. I would
*never* put you through that humiliation.”

“And what if your plan backfired? What would have happened if you were not only still angry, but
*furious* that Harry and I were together?”

Ron cringed. “I didn’t think about that…but that doesn’t even matter, right? I mean—I’m *not*
furious. I’m *fine*.”

“Yeah, you really thought this one through,” Hermione replied sarcastically. “You know what…it
doesn’t even matter. You were tampering with something that—that—“ Hermione tried to gather her
composure, and once she stopped yelling, sadness swept over her, tears burning her eyes. “You made
me believe that our friendship was over. You made me believe that I had lost you forever.”

“Hermione—“

“That’s the worst thing a friend could put another friend through. Did you think I wouldn’t
*care* if I had lost you? Did you think that all I cared about was Harry? That as long as I
had him, nothing else mattered?”

“A while ago I did, but not anymore. I know what I did was wrong. Which is why I had to tell you,
no matter how you would react,” Ron told her. “For so long I was so angry…and I was tired of it. I
was exhausted. The truth is Hermione…I was never angry with you. I was angry with myself. In fact,
it wasn’t until I saw you and Harry together that I finally started to feel peaceful inside. It’s
made me realize what I’m really made of. I can be strong when I want to be, when I *need* to
be. And this kind of strength comes from inside. I know I don’t have to rely on others to keep me
grounded. This whole experience has made me learn a lot about myself, and I have *you* to
thank.”

Hermione stared at Ron, feeling all the anger, sadness and resentment melt away. She knew at that
moment that she had forgiven Ron, and she was glad for it. She rolled her eyes, sighing with fake
impatience.

“And Ginny,” she reminded him.

“And my darling little sister,” he agreed, smiling. Then as if remembering why he was really there,
he added with sincerity in his eyes, “I’m really, really sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “You are forgiven, Ron. Don’t you *ever* pull another stunt
like that again.”

“I swear,” Ron promised.

“Good. Now what?” Hermione asked, shrugging uncomfortably as the tension lifted from the
room.

“Now we hug,” Ron told her.

“Ron!” Hermione felt laughter bubbling inside her.

“Hey—it’s a happy ending. That’s what people do. They hug.”

“That’s what *you* do,” Hermione retorted.

“Are you not happy?” Ron asked her, his grin growing wider.

“I am.”

“Then we hug.”

“But—“

“No one is leaving this room until I get a hug!” Ron insisted in mock hurt.

Hermione burst into laughter as Harry lunged at Ron from behind, wrapping his arms around him in a
strong, brotherly hug.

“That’s more like it,” Ron said as they parted.

“Oh…now I’m feeling neglected,” Hermione sighed dramatically.

Both Harry and Ron threw themselves onto Hermione, and the ‘Dream Team’ shared a three-way embrace,
each feeling relief and joy once again.

“Friends forever,” Ron said, as they parted.

“Friends forever,” Harry and Hermione chorused.

“Let’s go catch those carriages before they leave without us,” Ron suggested, and he led the way as
Harry hung back with Hermione, staying out of earshot.

“Together forever,” Harry whispered into Hermione’s ear, clasping his hand with hers.

“Now and forever,” Hermione agreed.


**The End.**