A/N: Thanks for all the support. I feel much better about everything having gotten such great feedback from everyone.
This chapter was a little slower in coming because you are the first to read the "enhanced" version. I added a scene in here-a fluffy one-although this chapter had a good bit of fluff already-I thought I'd give you a bit more. This story is so plot driven I tend to forget that part from time to time. It's fluffy enough I've changed ToR's rating to "R' because of it…enjoy!
Also, I wanted to plug another story. If you haven't seen it yet I went in on a joint venture in comedy with the ever-fantastic Cheering Charm. It's our first comedy but it went over well, it's now complete on PK….If you haven't checked out A Slip of the Tongue please give it a thought.
If you haven't had the pleasure of happening upon CC's Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered, you're missing out. It's a post-Hogwarts H/H that is a must read for anyone sailing that ship!! I highly recommend it, and I don't follow a whole lot of stories.
If you have checked out "Slip" and are one of those begging us to write another joint venture - you got your wish. Our comedic muse has reappeared and we have a fantastic idea for a parody. Like "Slip" I'm sure we'll write the whole thing before posting any of it. We'll let you know when to expect it!
Once again, thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy the latest installment of The Triumvirate of Resolve!
Chapter 8 - Inevitable
It seemed every room in the house was exactly the same as it had been the last time Harry saw it. It was still dark and musty. However, it was now eerily quiet, as all the Black family portraits seemed to be without their subjects. The cleaning efforts they had expended two summers ago even seemed to hold up. The curtains were not brimming with doxies and writing desks were free of boggarts. That's probably what disturbed Harry the most as he walked about from room to room. The house was completely silent. It was worse than silent.
It was lifeless.
He stood before the one door he'd avoided thus far. He gathered his courage and remembered the "vision" of Sirius and his parents. Harry snorted.
It wasn't a vision. It was merely a dream. Albeit a convincing one at the time, it was just a dream while I was knocked out. It was what I wished they could say to me. What they can't say. Nothing more.
Harry let out a deep breath as vague remembrances of the Mirror of Erised flashed through his mind.
I would've stayed in that dream for as long as I would've sat in front of that mirror.
Another voice interrupted his thoughts.
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.
With an inward smile, Harry reflected on the words of Albus Dumbledore and opened the door to his godfather's bedroom. Unlike the kitchen, he nearly expected Sirius to come walking out of the large closet to greet him. A wool cloak was thrown over a large wingback chair. There was a stack of jumpers set by the closet, clearly intended to be put away upon his return. A desk in the corner was littered with several old copies of the Daily Prophet. And the part that struck him closest to the heart, Sirius' mirror, the one to match Harry's father's, was set upon the top of the chest of drawers next to an old Gryffindor scarf.
If I'd only used this mirror I wouldn't have gotten him killed.
Harry felt a lump rising in his throat and guilt, familiar as an old friend, settling in his chest as he examined the mirror. He picked up the cardinal and gold striped scarf and closed his watering eyes while taking in the scent of it. Did he hope to discover some sensory reminder of his godfather? He didn't know. He wasn't sure why he'd been so compelled to take the scarf from the chest, but he wasn't returning it. He draped the scarf around his neck and turned to leave the room when he noticed his name on a piece of parchment the scarf had obscured. Compelled, he reached for the parchment and unrolled it. Realizing what it was, he sat down on the edge of the bed before his legs gave out.
Sirius had left Harry a letter.
It was dated the day he died.
My dearest Godson,
Forgive me for being a bit sentimental, it sneaks up on me. We've not had much time together Harry, more than anything I've bemoaned in my life, I've regretted that that above all. There are so many things I'd like to tell you, so many things I'd love to share, but again, regretfully, my time here is short as well. I know you are in trouble and I'm coming for you. But before I do, I wanted to leave you this, in case…well, in case it's the last thing I get to say to you.
Harry, your parents were the most precious people in my life. I would never have become who I am, nor survived what I did, without their influence. Your father was my best friend, he was my rock, my confidant, and he was the better part of me. Your mother was everything I could've wanted for him. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, she was a bit unnerving at times, but she had more love and compassion in her heart than any woman I've ever known. You are the best possible result of their relationship. They shared an all-consuming love that defies definition. None of it compares to how much they loved you.
I know you never truly knew them Harry, but look inside yourself and you'll meet them yet. You are everything they were and everything they hoped to be. And because I knew them better than I knew myself, I know what you're thinking now.
If you're reading this letter, I've undoubtedly joined Lily and James. I can only say I will regret seeing you grow into the man you will be. I will regret not being there to watch you realize the power of true love (although I believe I've already met her). I regret that I will not see your children born. But I do not regret the choice I'm making now.
I made a solemn promise to your parents. I promised with all that I am that I would protect and care for the most precious possession they had…you. Just as you would gladly go into battle for Ron or Hermione, I do that for Lily and James now. Before I go, I want to assure that you never forget this one thing. This is my choice to make. This is not your choice. This is not your doing. And if you're reading this letter now, my death was NOT your fault.
I never had occasion to feel the sort of love for another that your parents felt for each other. But, in the short time I've filled the role as your godfather; I believe I've come to understand what a powerful emotion love is.
I love you, Harry. I love you as your parents did. I love you as your parents still do. And understand this, if you understand nothing more; my death cannot stop my love for you. And if I died protecting you from those who stole your parents from me, my life will finally be worth something.
I will always be with you.
Your Loving Godfather,
Sirius
"Harry," a soft voice issued from behind him. He looked over his shoulder, letter in hand, to see Hermione standing in the doorway. The expression on his face broke her heart. Tears welling in her eyes, she walked to the bed and sat down next to him. Feeling this moment was over a year past due, she held him as he crumbled into her arms and finally lost the battle he'd fought so valiantly against.
He finally mourned for Sirius.
***
Harry and Hermione remained locked in an emotional embrace for what seemed like an eternity. Although the logical Hermione demanded Harry have this moment or release alone, the emotional Hermione did not comply. She had never seen Harry cry, certainly not the unrestrained tears that she witnessed here, and it broke her heart.
She held him close, unconsciously rocking back and forth as he clearly said goodbye to his godfather for the first time. It was more than she could take. She cried with him, grasping him around the shoulders, willing herself to hold him tighter. She honestly felt as though she was trying to hold him together both emotionally and physically. It drained her as clearly as it drained him.
Eventually his sobs subsided and they gave in to their exhaustion. Perhaps it was because she knew they were alone and would not be disturbed. Perhaps it was because she was so suddenly tired. She, for once, did not analyze her actions. She didn't think about how the scene would look to others. She didn't think about what Harry would think. She only thought about him. She needed to hold him, and she was too tired to remain sitting up.
She pulled him down with her as they softly collapsed onto the bed. They never broke their embrace, merely adjusted the positions to gain a comfortable spot. Harry's head was resting gently on her chest, her arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. His arms were tight around her waist and their legs tangled with each other.
Perhaps her lack of analysis explained her surprise at what happened next. Harry pulled his head from her chest and pulled her to him so they were both lying on their sides, facing each other. While his mouth searched for the words, his eyes broadcast his sentiment. Without requiring his spoken gratitude, Hermione merely smiled and replied to the statement he'd intended to make.
"You're welcome, Harry." She intended to add to that statement, but as she opened her mouth to continue, she quickly found her voice muffled as his lips met hers. He pulled her tightly to his chest as he deepened the kiss, nearly usurping the breath from her lungs. Hermione was hard-pressed to describe the scene and the analytical part of her brain was screaming for an explanation, not that the emotional half cared.
This was clearly as passionate as Harry had ever been. He rolled up so that Hermione was pressed against the mattress and he, propped on his left elbow, covered the right side of her body. He broke from the kiss as the necessity of respiration would demand and trailed kisses along the smooth skin of her neck.
They were all alone, lying on a bed, with no chance of being happened upon, and had time to spend before they were expected at the Burrow. For a moment, the logical part of her began to protest. She had never had this discussion with Harry. She'd never told him, that while perhaps conservative and old-fashioned, she did not wish to consummate their relationship until they were married. She opened her mouth to state these concerns when he began sucking the place where her neck and shoulder joined. All that escaped her lips was a quiet moan as her eyelids fluttered closed at his touch.
Her hands played in his raven hair as he continued to explore the parts of her neck and shoulders exposed by the boat neck jumper she was wearing. She finally found her voice as she felt his right hand slide up under her shirt.
"Harry?" she whispered quietly.
"Hmmm?" he answered, his hand still working ever farther up her chest.
"I don't….know," she drew a short breath as his fingers found the front closure of her bra. "I, um…" His hand came to a pause and he pulled his head up to look at her properly.
"Hermione," his voice was deeper than she'd ever heard it. "We can stop anytime you'd like." A faint blush broke his features and he smiled dimly. "I guess we haven't talked about this have we?"
"No," she replied quietly still feeling the searing heat from his hand on her lacy bra.
"I…um…" He cleared his throat. "I don't know how to say this." He shifted on the bed, his hand falling back upon her bare stomach. "I don't want to…um…you know," he stammered. Her eyebrows constricted with the obvious question. "Not yet anyway. You're going to think I'm prudish or old-fashioned, but I think some things are better left for a honeymoon."
Hermione smiled broadly, feeling the relief wash over her. "I feel the same way." Logic leaving her senses once again, she heard herself continue, "but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other in the meanwhile." Inexplicably to her, and most obviously to Harry, she popped the clasp on her bra with one hand and danced her fingers across his forearm expectantly.
It was a message not lost on Harry. He crushed his lips to hers as his hand made its way along her skin to gently cup her breast. She moaned audibly as his fingers dragged along her skin, having never been touched by anyone in this way. Her hands slid under his shirt and roamed along his back reciprocally.
They continued, somewhat tenuously, exploring each other in the same manner until their allotted time expired. Later, Hermione would often wonder what triggered their first quasi-intimate experience. While they'd certainly had their fair share of kissing, he'd never touched her in any other way before this evening. She reasoned that Harry's emotional release simply triggered a more physical one. He obviously trusted her implicitly as he let her see him in a new light. That, in and of itself, cast their relationship in a new perspective and perhaps drove it to another plateau.
While she was relieved that he felt the same way about their relationship as she did, she felt a moderate concern over her own willpower. He felt so right. She felt so uninhibited with him. His touch nearly set her aflame - and they'd never even discussed setting a date. Her mind was incapable of thinking about anything other than his hands upon her skin, which left her with only one thought.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
***
It was inevitable. It had to happen sooner or later.
Ron, Harry and Hermione had reached some peaceable détente in the days following the attack at Privet Drive, but the emotions, misconceptions, and insecurities ran too deep to keep the conversation at bay for long. The trio went about their normal routine quietly attempting to return their friendship to what it had been in the years prior. While they laughed, talked, and played chess and Quidditch as frequently as ever, the tension of a conversation conspicuously unspoken, plagued their interactions.
Perhaps they were waiting. Maybe they understood that the warm familiarity of the Hogwarts Express, where they began this odyssey together, would be the most comforting place to tackle the latest troll threatening their relationship. The journey to Hogwarts took several hours. It would certainly be a logical place to sit down with each other and talk.
It's disappointing that emotions can so quickly overtake logic, especially in those whose name seems synonymous with the concept.
"Why can't I move the queen there?" Hermione blustered, trying rather unsuccessfully, to look angry with Harry.
"Because you can't! It's illegal!" He chortled. The sun had broken through the last vestiges of the inky darkness and morning had erupted in a blaze of fiery radiance. While everyone had peaceably tucked into bed the evening before it had been short-lived for Hermione.
"It's good to see you laughing," Harry said with a contented smile. Hermione looked at him for the briefest of moments and returned her gaze to the chessboard. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'd be better if you'd stop asking me that question, Harry."
"Hermione, I'm worried about you. Call it pure masculine egotism, but I thought your nightmares would stop after we were together again," he added somberly.
"Harry, I appreciate your concern," she said drawing her eyes to his face. "But, I honestly don't want to think about it right now." Harry was amazed at how quickly she seemed to revert her attention back to the chessboard. He wished he could be as accommodating, but all he could think about was last night.
**
Harry startled awake. He'd been sleeping rather well and for a moment forgot his surroundings. He glanced at the Chudley Cannon chaser zipping around the frame of the poster and relaxed. He was in Ron's room. Everything was fine. He flopped backward onto the pillows and stared at the shadows dancing along the wall, cast by the trees waving in the gentle breeze outside. The smooth, rhythmic motion was comforting. Even Ron's snoring, blissfully muffled by the pillow his face was buried in, seemed to reiterate the peace he usually felt at the Burrow.
But something was still awry.
He thought back to the dream that so effectively roused him from the depths of his slumber. There was chilling laughter, piercing screams, and a blinding flash of green light. Harry's brain finally seemed to engage.
Hermione!
He took a brief glance at Ron and quietly made his way out of the room. She was dreaming again. This, like the last, had been a recurring dream. But unlike the last, did not seem to show events to come, but those past. While Hermione had exhausted quite a lot of effort convincing anyone who would listen that she had come to terms with the attack at Privet Drive, Harry knew better. She put up a convincing façade during the waking hours, but at night her subconscious replayed the scene incessantly.
He padded down the stairs and headed toward Ginny's room. As Ginny was finishing up the final few hours of her internship with Witch Weekly, Hermione had been sleeping in her bedroom alone. He silently pushed the door open and nearly felt his heart shatter.
Hermione was tangled in the fluffy down comforter covering the bed. Her brow was glistening as she methodically rocked her head from left to right. She was moaning largely incoherent words, but three were clearly audible to him.
"No…please…Harry!"
He rushed to the bedside and dropped next to her. He thought to grab her and shake her awake, but worried such a start might do more harm than good. He gently brushed the side of her face with his hand. "Hermione, wake up." She didn't respond.
"Hermione, please wake up," he said more sternly, dropping his head towards hers. She drew in a gasp and her eyes snapped open. She jumped backward, away from him, as her eyes darted around the room. "It's okay! It's okay," he said quickly throwing his hands in the air. "It was just a bad dream."
She let out the breath she'd involuntarily strangled in her chest and her shoulders sagged with relief. Her tired eyes looked down at the bed linens, clearly trying to avoid his.
"Come here," he said quietly, extending his arms toward her. She hesitated for a moment, knowing what would happen if she allowed herself to be held. The argument in her head didn't last long. Gryffindor courage or not, sometimes you just need to cry; where better than in the arms of the man you love?
He wrapped her firmly in his embrace and held her close. He fought valiantly against the tears that threatened to erupt from his eyes. He wasn't even sure why he suddenly felt like joining her in the release. Maybe it was because his heart crumbled to see her cry. Maybe it was because he knew these tears were shed for him. Maybe it was because he loved her so much. He wasn't exactly sure, but refused to allow the tears to fall. This was her time to cry.
After a while her chest stopped hitching and her breathing returned to normal. She looked completely worn out, but refused to return to sleep. Harry even offered to sleep on the floor next to her bed, but Hermione flat refused.
"Harry! How would that look if Ms. Weasley walked in?"
He wanted to argue with her, but she had a point .He was less worried about what Ms. Weasley would think than what Ron would surmise. He'd noticed a stark awkwardness about him since returning from Grimmauld Place on Hermione's arm.
"Then how about some tea and a game of chess?"
**
"Checkmate!" she said triumphantly. Harry, whose thoughts had been elsewhere for the last several moves, looked at the chessboard in disbelief.
"Wha..how?" he stammered. He wasn't hurt to be beaten by Hermione, but he was surprised. He generally held fast to the belief that at least she was someone he could beat. It was all but impossible for either of them to vanquish Ron.
"That's what you get for being distracted. You forget the most important rule Potter," she said chuckling.
"What's that?"
"Constant vigilance!" she barked, in the best impression of Alastor Moody she could manage.
"Better wizards than you have lost buttocks!" Harry growled. They laughed together, for a few minutes, playfully volleying what they'd come to refer to as "Moody-isms" back and forth.
"Seriously Harry," Hermione asked wiping a tear from her eye. "What were you thinking about?"
Harry raised his eyes to hers and without hesitation answered, "you." Hermione blushed and looked toward the window.
"I can think of better uses for your time," she scoffed.
"I can't." He refused to take his eyes off her and she felt the heat rise to her face.
"Harry," she began, only to stop as she realized he was leaning across the chessboard, moving closer to her. Astonished, she chastised him, hissing, "anyone could walk in here, Harry!"
"No one is awake yet." He was still moving closer.
"But," she fumbled.
"Shut up and kiss me, Granger," he said quietly.
Oh, he's right. No one is awake yet and it's only a little kiss!
She gave into his advances and suddenly forgot the world. She also failed to notice Ron coming into the room behind Harry.
"Well. There you are Harry." Harry and Hermione snapped apart at the rather indignant sound of their best friend's voice. "No! Please," Ron added sarcastically. "Don't stop because of me. Perhaps I should give you an hour or so alone." With that he stalked into the kitchen, clearly having arisen on the wrong side of the bed.
**
Ron's mood did not improve as the day progressed. He appeared to be holding his temper in check by sheer force of will. However, his resolve was faltering after hours of inquiries about what was bothering him. Harry and Hermione never asked that question. They were smart enough to know what the matter was. While they kept at a minimum safe distance, Ron's mother was less accommodating.
"Ronald?" she asked while preparing the last meal they would eat together until Christmas. "What is the matter with you? You've been skulking around this house snapping at everyone like a Venus Fly Trap with an attitude problem."
"Nothing. I'm fine." Ron said a bit too quickly, and certainly too forcefully, to have anyone believe him.
"Right. I'll believe that as soon as Alastor Moody wins `Most Charming Personality' in Witch Weekly."
"Leave me alone, mum." He apparently didn't find his mother's attempt at levity endearing in the least.
"Ron, I'm just worr..." she began.
"Shut it!" he snapped as he slammed a plate on the table and stormed from the room. Molly Weasley looked simply dumbfounded. She stood rooted to the spot, not even noticing the water boiling over onto the stove. Hermione, however, had determined this latest outburst to be the quintessential "last straw" and followed him into the back garden. Logic quickly fell victim to emotion.
"What in the name of Merlin has gotten into you Ron?" Hermione shouted as she shut the door behind her.
"Nothing. Why don't you go back to your boyfriend and leave me alone," he snapped.
"Ronald Weasley, you are acting like a child!"
"Am I?"
"Yes, you are! Frankly, I'm tired of tiptoeing around you. I'm sick of all this tension between everyone." She was yelling loudly enough to not notice Harry stepping out of the house. He resigned to himself that this argument was undoubtedly shaping up to be another signature Weasley-Granger row.
He didn't figure it would turn on him as quickly as it did.
"Maybe he should've thought of that sooner!" Rod snapped his glare toward Harry and walked out onto the back lawn.
"What's wrong with you Ron?" Harry said as calmly as he could manage.
Ron rounded on him, eyes blazing. "What do you care? When have you ever cared about me?" Harry was flabbergasted. He stood there for a second trying to understand where such animosity was coming from. In truth, he already knew. It didn't take long for Ron to remind him. Whether arguing or not, he still knew him better than anyone else. "So, did you wait until you knew I liked Hermione, or were you just content to leave me another hand-me-down if it didn't work out?" Hermione's eyes flashed.
That got Harry's attention. He certainly hadn't thought of Ron when he fell in love with Hermione, but he also didn't feel he needed his permission. The sheer audacity of Ron's assumption infuriated him. "Maybe if you'd had the guts to ask her out first…"
"Right! Like anyone would go out with the faithful sidekick to Captain Fantastic!"
"That's your issue Ron! I've never been anything but a friend to you."
"Some friend!" This argument was careening out of control.
"Stop it! Both of you," Hermione screamed. She physically placed herself exactly where she felt emotionally, between her two best friends. She turned on Harry. "I'm not the snitch! You can't win me just because you got there first!" She heard Ron snort, and turned to face him. Her eyes were blurring and her entire body trembled with anger. "And you! How dare you! I am not some old jumper to be passed from one person to the next! I'm not that kind of girl!"
Surprisingly for Harry, rather than presenting a united front before Ron, all three seemed to have retreated to separate, yet equally hostile, corners. Before he could determine what he'd need to say to bring Hermione to his side, Ron said it for him.
For the first time since stepping outside, Ron's voice was quiet. But it was also colder than they'd ever heard it. "Not that kind of girl? Really, so what did you do for the hour Lupin gave you at Grimmauld Place?"
Harry and Hermione were dumbstruck. Both of their jaws were firmly planted on the floor. Harry had only begun to process the insinuation Ron had made before Hermione quietly stepped forward to respond. With a resounding crack, she slapped Ron clear across the face.
"Go to hell, Ron." She turned to run back into the house, already dissolving into tears, and was abruptly stopped at the door.
"What in Merlin's name is going on between you three?" Ginny stood blocking the door, eyes flashing, and hands firmly planted on her hips.
***
Remus Lupin stood at the window with one his arms crossed in front of him. His right hand was pinching the bridge of his nose and his eyes were shut tight. There was nothing about this situation that was good. While he stood, quietly contemplating his response, he never realized Tonks had entered the room behind him.
"Hi." She placed her hands on Lupin's shoulder blades and began kneading his knotted muscles. He let out a groan and dropped his face into his hand.
"Ugh. That's it. No more discussion. I'm ready to bear your children," Remus' muffled voice escaped from behind his hand. Tonks giggled quietly and continued working her hands down his back.
"What are we going to do?" she sobered.
"I don't know. We've got to talk some sense into them. This is the worst time for them to fall apart." He returned his gaze through the window to the scene in the back garden.
"Oh! Did that just happen?" Tonks exclaimed.
"Wow. That's going to leave a mark. Remind me not to piss off Hermione." He looked at Tonks and cast his eyes to the door with a sigh. It was time to step in.
***
"Get out of my way, Ginny!" Hermione's voice was trembling with anger.
"I will not!" she replied. "Just what in the world is going on out here?"
"None of your business, Ginny. Stay out of it." Ron retorted. He stood exactly where Hermione had left him, refusing to flinch over the cheek that was undoubtedly pounding beneath his eye.
"Well, some welcome home I'm having. Harry, would you care to comment?" Ginny asked, looking over toward the only voice she'd not heard through the window.
"No."
"Fine, then you won't mind if I talk for a minute. It seems like you all have had plenty enough to say to each other and it's only too obvious what it's all about." She grabbed Hermione's arm and led her back to the chaise lounger outside, depositing her with a stern glance. Hermione opened her mouth to release a scathing retort but was silenced rather abruptly. "Don't say it Granger! You're going to sit there and listen, or you're going to experience a trademark Ginny bat bogey hex and still sit there and listen!" A satisfied smirk crossed Ron's expression. "Hang it, Ron! She's right, you are being childish." Ron's smirk vanished. Ginny spun her attention to Harry and glared at him as if to tempt his daring.
"Good. Now that I have your attention," she began, in a significantly calmer voice. She turned to Hermione and asked, "this is about you and Harry isn't it?" Hermione nodded. "And I'm assuming my big brother, and I use the term loosely, has finally spoken up about how he feels about it." Ron's brow furrowed. "Oh, please Ron. Aged Russian vodka is not as transparent as you are!" She turned on Harry. "And you, as always, are feeling guilty over the whole damn thing. Have I covered everything?" Harry didn't respond. "I'll take that as a `yes.'"
"No! You missed the part where your brother considers me to be nothing more than a common strumpet!" Hermione hissed as she fought back the angry tears prickling her eyes. Ginny rounded on Ron.
"What? Well, that explains why I can make out every imperfection in your palm on the side of his face. Honestly, Ron! I should make it a matched set! You think of no one but yourself!"
"What?" Ron was stunned.
"You heard me! You're supposed to be their best friend. Yet the only person you can think of is yourself and how you feel because they got together. You're not acting the slightest bit interested in whether or not they're happy. You probably can't even articulate why you're angry about the whole thing!" Ron's mouth was bobbing open, searching for words befitting of a reply. Hermione couldn't help but feel victorious. That was until Ginny turned to face her.
"And you, Ms. Hermione-smartest-witch-in-a-millenia-Granger. You should've seen this coming. Had you been thinking of anyone other than Harry, you could've sensed the same pain in Ron that I've felt for months. I'm purely amazed you never cottoned on to how Ron felt about this." Knowing his time was next; Harry hung his head and waited. It didn't take long.
"And, Harry. You might give Voldemort a run for his money, but he's got nothing on me. You've been entirely too quiet through this entire episode. That leads me to one conclusion. Ron already told you how he felt about this, didn't he?" Harry's head snapped up. "That's what I thought." The trio remained entirely silent, save the shooting glare Hermione cast toward Harry. The look was not lost on Ginny.
"Well, it appears one thing hasn't changed. Ron and Harry are still trying to protect you from everything." She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, seeming to have expended herself as mediator. "All three of you have to talk. Not scream, not insult, but sincerely talk about that thing Gryffindors like to hide best…fear."
Ron, Harry, and Hermione suddenly took great interest in their shoelaces.
"Ron, sit down." Ginny's voice was as passive as it had been all afternoon. Looking exhausted, Ron did not argue but did as requested. "I know your fear. You're scared you lost her before you ever got her." Ron's buried his reddening face in his hands. "But you and I also know that's not true." She was kneeling down in front of her brother now. "Ron, you aren't in love with Hermione and I can prove it." Everyone took great interest in the quiet conversation now.
"Look at her, Ron." He wouldn't pull his head up. "Look at Hermione." Ginny gently raised his head from his hands and turned it to Hermione. "What do you see?"
For a moment, Ron was silent. The glistening tear in his eyes matched hers, and it was Hermione that could no longer hold the gaze. Ron cleared his throat and summoned the courage to talk. "I see." He cleared his throat again. "I see my best friend. I see someone who is more clever than I'll ever be. I see someone who cares more for others than she does for herself. I don't know how I would've made it this far in school if not for her notes." He smiled weakly.
"Exactly," Ginny said quietly. "You do love her Ron, but there's a difference between that and being in love." Ron looked at her, puzzled. "Let me tell you how someone in love answers that question." She began to pull a roll of parchment from her robes.
"Ginny," Harry cautioned.
"Harry, I have to." Hermione looked curiously from Harry to Ginny. Ginny unrolled the parchment, scanned down the page, and began to read it aloud.
First, let me say I'm only answering this question because I know you're Hermione's friend and you're concerned for her well-being. Second, I'll warn you that I've hexed the parchment so you'll never think to tell her what I'm going to tell you. Strangely, it's easier to talk to you about how I feel than it is to talk to her. So here goes, if I haven't shattered your preconceived opinion of the Boy-Who-Lived, I probably will by the time you're done reading this.
I don't know what I see when I look at Hermione. I see so much. Physically, I see the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. I don't know if she got prettier, or I just stopped being blind. Her hair is the perfect color of dark chocolate. Not the kind you buy from a market, but the kind of chocolate that's been stirred by hand in the humble cottage of some Swiss villager. Her eyes actually seem to swirl with cinnamon and gold. They're unlike anything I've ever seen. I could get lost in them for hours, if she wouldn't think I was mental. But I see more than that.
I see hope. I see love. I see fear. I see the sum of a life filled with wonder and happiness in every smile she gives me. To see her is to want nothing more than to be near her. We don't have to speak; we don't even have to touch. Just to be in her presence in sometimes all the peace I need. She has this amazing way of calming me with one word, or one stroke of her hand upon mine. I've spent a lifetime not knowing what it feels like to be loved. But every hour under in that cupboard, every scathing insult leveled upon me as I grew up, has faded in my memory.
I look at her and I hurt, physically hurt. My heart doesn't know whether to leap or break. Every minute of every day, I thank whatever superior being there is in the universe that I could be this lucky. I purely cannot believe how lucky I am. Maybe it's destiny. Maybe it's fate. But whatever atrocities lie in my past, or my future, every one of them was worth it. The life that lies behind me brought me to her, and that's worth everything to me.
Ginny wiped a stray tear from her cheek and looked at her brother. "That's how someone in love answers that question. Can you honestly look her in the eyes and say the same thing?" Ron was silent.
"I thought you said you didn't hear from Ginny over the summer?" Hermione asked with an unreadable look on her face.
"No. I said I was surprised you hadn't heard from her. We only wrote to each other once. For lack of a better term, she wanted to know what my intentions were." Harry bobbed back and forth on his heels, obviously embarrassed to hear his own words read aloud.
"Well, I thought those were obvious," Ron said flatly. "You might not put a lot of stock in my powers of perception, but if I didn't know what that ring changing hands on the Hogwart's Express meant before, I surely knew it when you dodged the point in my letter."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a brief, but shocked, glance. They were clearly not willing to begin screaming at each other again.
"Listen, Ron," Harry began. "I..I don't know…" Harry stammered.
Completely ignoring Harry's attempt at a conversation, Ginny put a hand on Ron's knee and said, "that's what you're really afraid of isn't it?"
Ron nodded.
Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled stares. "Afraid of what?" Hermione asked, clearly frustrated to not know the answer herself.
"Afraid of being left out." Another voice issued from the doorway behind them. They all turned to see Lupin and Tonks sitting quietly in the doorway. From their demeanor, they had been there a while.
"Left out?" Harry said incredulously.
Remus laughed. "You really are eerily like James sometimes Harry. I know exactly how Ron feels. I felt the same way. You are as much a part of a legendary trio as I was a part of the Marauders. But odd numbers are always hard. It leaves someone relegated to the position of `third wheel,' if only in their head," he finished dejectedly.
"Odd numbers? There were four of you," Ron corrected.
"Having kept our fourth member in such hospitable company for so many years I would think you would understand he was never really part of the group. He was in name, but he didn't share the same spirit. He obviously didn't share the same soul. He still doesn't. That left James, Sirius, and myself. Not that they didn't love me of course, but James and Sirius were the male equivalents of soul mates. They included me in everything, but I was different than they were. I was the studious one. I was the responsible one. I was the one completely lacking in self-confidence." He scoffed as he glanced up at the waxing moon that had begun to rise. "They never intended for me to feel like a third wheel, but my own insecurities got the better of me; like they're getting the better of you, Ron." Ron's eyes met Lupin's and their expression contained an entire conversation in one glance.
"If it's now `Harry and Hermione,' what does that leave for me?" Ron was so quiet in his question he wasn't sure anyone had actually heard it.
She did.
Hermione left the chair she was sitting in and crossed the patio to where Ron was slumped. Ginny moved aside silently, and Hermione knelt down in front of Ron. "Ron. Just because I'm in love with Harry, doesn't mean I don't love you. What would my life be if I didn't have someone to nag about homework? You're frustrating sometimes, but that's because were so much alike. You bring laughter to my life, Ron. I need that. I need you. Please don't ever feel as though you are less important to me than Harry is. You both occupy different parts of my life, but they are both vital to who I am." Ron hadn't looked up yet, but Hermione could feel Harry approaching behind her. "Ron, please look at me."
After what seemed an eternity, he finally lifted his head to hers. As soon as their eyes met, he could hold on no longer.
"Hermione," he cried. "I am so sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it, any of it!" She grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him into a warm embrace. "Please, forgive me," he muttered.
"There's nothing to forgive. You are my best friend." He raised his eyes to Harry's, now standing directly behind Hermione. He didn't get the chance to reiterate his request. Harry took Ron's hand in his and said,
"You are my best friend too." They all seemed to collapse in a pile of sobs right there in the rear garden. There was no embarrassment. There was no judgment. There was a beginning. Hermione eventually turned to Ginny.
"When did you get so smart?"
"It happens when you assist the relationship columnist for an entire summer. But don't fool yourselves into thinking one night on this patio will right the world. You all still have a lot of talking to do, but at least you're headed in the right direction."
"Must have been some internship, Ginny." Harry said smiling
"You have no idea, Harry. By the way…I knew you were bluffing."