Secret Smile

Epona

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 11/04/2004
Last Updated: 20/10/2004
Status: in_progress

Formally named: 'A Bludger to the Head'. Harry falls quite ill, and Hermione is there to make him feel better. Repurcusions ensue and Friendships are lost. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

Chapters

1. A bludger to the head

2. A trip to the hospital wing

3. Harry

4. Sour Grapes?

5. Misunderstandings Misunderstood

6. Dreams and Midnight Wanderings

7. The Aftermath

8. You

9. OUt of the Hospital Wing at Last...

10. Whispers and Wonderings

11. Confused? So am I...

12. Just a Leetle Note ;)

13. Ah, so that's what's going on...

1. A bludger to the head

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, If I did then I wouldn’t be posting it in a fan fiction site, I’d be putting it in the next Harry Potter book.

Authors Notes: I read something about this in the challenges forum on Portkey, but the guidelines for the challenge weren’t really all that suited for me. Plus, this is a plot bunny that has been nagging at me for AGES, so I wanna get it down before it drives me to insanity… uh, I mean, before it drives me out of insanity. J

Summary: Harry is sick, and Hermione helps him to get better.

Harry trudged into the empty common room, cold and wet, fresh from his first Quidditch practice of the season. He’d managed to really beat himself up this time, he’d been hit by the bludgers three times. His head was so fuzzy and so unclear that he couldn’t concentrate on the snitch, and the bludgers at the same time. In the end, Angelina had gotten fed up and sent him in, telling him to sort himself out, while the others carried on playing.

He walked over to the sofa, his scarlet and gold robes laden with mud and rain, his hair dripping droplets of water everywhere. Closing his eyes wearily, he flopped down, completely drained of energy and feeling totally dead. In the corner of his eye, he noticed hazel brown eyes watching him, concerned.

“Harry, You don’t look well,” she moved closer, dropping the book she was holding onto the floor and using the free hand to lay it across his forehead, feeling the groove that his legendary scar made. He sighed, his eyes fighting to keep open, and only nodded. His throat was far too dry and scratchy to speak. “I think you ought to go to bed. Come on…”

She stood up and extended a hand to pull him off the sofa, which he accepted, a grateful look in his brilliant green eyes. He let himself be pulled up by Hermione, too weak and lazy to think about his manly pride, and allowed himself to be pushed over to the boys’ dormitories, her warm hands on his back.

“The common room looks weird…,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and raw. “It’s all blurry…It’s spinning… Why is it spinning, Hermione? Stop it…”

He began to panic slightly, shaking his head and stopping himself being pushed by Hermione, who looked scared and began to back away. He looked around at the sofa and the fire, or rather the two pairs of sofas and fires, which were all looking strange, and starting to spin slightly.

“Harry? You’re hallucinating… I really think you ought to get to bed… now.”

Harry tried to nod, his head beginning to really hurt, and tried to turn to the boys dormitories, feeling as though he’d left his glasses on the sofa. He managed to reach the stairs. But didn’t get any further however, as he began to lose balance. He swayed, and Hermione ran to his side to try and hold him up, but she was too late and he fell.

Hitting his head on the soft carpet floor, he had lost his glasses, which made his hallucinations ten times worse. His eyes were growing even more tired, and he could not keep them open. The last thing he saw was Hermione, her face floating above his own, calling him, incoherently, tears dripping down her porcelain cheeks, before eventually fading into darkness.

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Hermione began to panic, there was no one in the common room, everyone was at Quidditch practice, or in other engagements, and she couldn’t leave Harry here, alone on the common room floor, unconscious. She looked at him, her face sweating with concern and shock, for he had just collapsed on the scarlet carpeted floor, his face sweating and pale, his eyes a dull green and looking tired. He looked thoroughly worn out, covered in mud and water, a drop slowly dripping down his face. Without a second thought, she brushed it aside and cupped his cheek, wondering what on earth he could have done to himself to get like this.

Looking around the common room once more, as if there might have been someone there since half a minute ago, she came to the conclusion that it was up to her to get Harry to the hospital wing. She sat him up, with little difficulty, she found with some surprise, and managed, somehow, to hoist his long arm around her neck. Expecting to have to use all her strength to lift him, she pushed herself up quite quickly, misjudging how heavy Harry was. She was surprised, he was really quite light, as much to be worried about even.

She made her way out of the portrait hole with surprising ease, with a distraught look on the Fat Lady’s face and an unneeded gasp of; “Oh my goodness! Is he alright?”. Shooting a dirty look at her, which clearly said; ‘Does it look like it?’ she turned and set off for the hospital wing.

She trundled through corridors and through tapestries, with Harry’s arm on her shoulder, carrying him through the vast halls of Hogwarts, her mind frantic with worry. Harry had gone through a lot of bad things, but not many of them had caused him to be this bad. At first she figured he might have gotten hit by a bludger or two in practice, and maybe the cold he had lately hadn’t helped matters, but no way would that have caused him to hallucinate and fall unconscious.

After a while they reached the hospital wing, Hermione opening the door and hoisting Harry up a bit, so he was easier to carry. She entered the bright, white-walled wing, and made her way over to the nearest white linen bed, picking Harry up with ease and placing him upon the sheets. Looking at him, tears of worry lining her eye lashes, she placed a hand on his forehead again, feeling the familiar groove of his scar. He was burning up, and clammy. She sighed sadly, stroking his face, tears beginning to fall.

She cared a great deal for Harry, and it killed her to see him in this condition, frail and vulnerable. They had been through a lot, and she knew, that if it was the other way around, Harry would have done the same for her, and more. He was compassionate like that, always the one who made sure she was okay, always making sure she never studied to hard, or that she got herself frantic over exams. All the little things that he did, like be there and hug her when she was down, and not join in with the other when they teased her about her studying, they all added up, which made Hermione feel like she cared for Harry a tad more then Ron. It pained her to say it of course, she had always felt that she had felt the same about both of her boys, they were a trio, but lately, Ron had been slightly less friendly towards her, teasing her more often and shouting a lot more.

A small, shrill scream disrupted her thoughts and she turned, to find Madam Pomfrey running down the wing, a worried look on her face. She reached Harry’s bed and looked him up and down, flustered and shocked.

“What’s he been doing now? Been hit by a bludger has he? I have told the headmaster again and again that that game is too dangerous to be played by school children…”

Hermione listened to the nurse ramble on and on about Harry’s previous visits to the Hospital wing, watching Harry’s face intently. Tears were still falling down her cheeks, and she lifted her hand to meet Harry’s, entwining her fingers around his weather beaten skin, speaking softly, and slow.

“Wake up, Harry, please wake up… I need you here with me…”

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Well? What did you think? Sorry to leave it there like that, but don’t worry, I’ll have the next chapter up soon. This is my first real big chaptered story, so I need LOADSA REVIEWS!

2. A trip to the hospital wing

Authors Notes: Thanks for the reviews people! :D I was so pleased with the response I got from the first chapter, I’ve decided to post the second chapter up early!

Muirnin: Sorry if it seems rude to ask for reviews, but I love getting them, and I love to know what people think of my story, so I can make it better!

ANDTORR: This is for you, so you don’t get very angry! ^_^

And to others who noticed that Hermione didn’t use the Mobilicorpus spell on Harry:

I did notice that too after I’d wrote it, but I figured, that if Hermione was panicking, she’d have forgotten about it, like she did in the first book with the devils snare and the fire, so I decided to leave it in there. ^_^

So here’s the next chapter for everyone who reviewed, thank you so much!

Enjoy!

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Harry opened his eyes to a bright white light, and for a split second it blinded him, and forced him close his eyes once again. Blinking, he finally got used to the light and managed to keep his eyes open.

He looked around, confused for a second as to why this wasn’t his comfortable four poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. Upon closer inspection, he found he was in the hospital wing, for what reason he did not know.

He felt something stir on his right side, and felt a mass of bushy hair on his hand. Looking down, he saw Hermione’s mass of bushy chestnut hair, leaning on the side of Harry’s bed, fast asleep. She was wearing a pink dressing gown and slippers, which could only mean that it was morning. Thoroughly confused as to why they were there, he tried to call her, to wake her up, only he found he couldn’t. His voice was completely gone, only a faint raspy whisper came out. He tried again, trying to shout it out, but only gaining a cough. It grew into a coughing fit and he sat up, coughing furiously and violently.

At last this woke Hermione up. She lifted her head slowly, rubbing her pretty brown eyes and looking up at Harry sleepily. After a moment, her eyes widened, and she smiled gleefully before throwing herself onto him, in a tight hug. Confused, Harry hugged her back, feeling completely drained and like he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

“Harry! You’re awake! Oh, thank Goodness, I was so worried!”

She pulled back, and Harry was shocked to see tears falling down her face. He felt utterly confused as to why she was so relieved. What on earth must he have done to himself? He tried to speak again, but it only came out as a dry, croaky bark.

“What…? Why.. am I.. Here?”

It was her turn to look confused, as she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes.

“You mean, you don’t remember?”

He shook his head and she continued.

“You collapsed, in the middle of the common room floor… I had to carry you up here, everyone was at Quidditch practice…”

As she told him it came flooding back to him, he remembered being sent off the pitch by Angelina, because he was too tired to play, and couldn’t see the snitch. He went back up to the common room, and the last thing he remembered was being pushed up to bed by Hermione.

He suddenly registered in his head what she had said. She had carried him up here? All by herself?

He looked to her, trying to express his thanks in his eyes rather than failing to say it in words, and pulled her into a hug. He felt a little scared, wondering why he had collapsed and not even been able to make it up to bed. She seemed to sense this in his hug, as she hugged him tightly and said; “It’s okay, Harry, at least you’re awake now.”

He couldn’t get the fact that she had carried him all the way here from Gryffindor tower out of his head, and the frustrating thing was, he couldn’t tell her how grateful he was. ‘Just like Hermione’, he thought, as she smiled at him and asked him whether he wanted a glass of water. He nodded, hoping the water would help him regain the use of his throat. ‘She’s always there for me, always there to lend a helping hand. It must have killed her to get me all the way up here by herself… I wish I could repay her somehow…’

She handed him the glass of water and he took a long sip, the cooling liquid soothing his burning throat. He set the glass back down on the bedside table, and coughed slightly, before attempting to speak, this time, it coming out slightly more coherent.

“I must have been quite heavy, having to carry me all the way up here?”

At this, she lowered her gaze, and Harry looked slightly worried.

“Well, actually, you weren’t,” Harry’s worried look turned to one of surprise. “You were quite light, and, um,” She looked up at Harry, her eyes slightly sad, which caused Harry more worry. “Madam Pomfrey seems to think that it might have been the reason why you collapsed…”

Harry gulped. He knew the reason why he was thin, and he wanted to keep that reason to himself. He didn’t want people knowing how the Dursleys treated him at home, he thought it was pitiful, and it made him weak. Since last summer, they had treated him with the utmost loathing, which made the summer more depressing then usual. Dudley beat him up more, and once or twice invited hid gang to join in on the fun. He was given a job, by Uncle Vernon, at his drill making company, loading vans and lorries full of heavy drills, backbreaking work for little pay, which the Dursleys then confiscated as ‘rent’. They fed him as little as possible, which, really, was the main factor in Harry’s thinness, and only once a day.

Harry hated the idea of ever sharing this information with anyone, he did not want people knowing that he let people walk all over him like that. He didn’t dare tell Ron or Hermione, for the sheer fact that thy would get distraught over it. He didn’t want to worry them, especially not so that they’d tell any of the members of the order of the phoenix. Last time the order did something, they had made matters worse. Uncle Vernon had confiscated Hedwig from Harry, and sent the letters to the order himself, claiming that Harry was happy and doing fine.

Hermione was looking at him with a concerned look on her face. He knew she knew that he was hiding something, but, for now, he decided, this would remain a secret.

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He was hiding something, and she knew it. She watched him as with the mention on his being thin, he gulped and fell silent, well, more so than before. She knew that the Dursleys treated him bad, and she knew that he would never talk about it. That was why she had to get it from someone else….

She sat at his bedside for the fourth day running since he had collapsed, Ron by her side, both silent and staring at him, waiting for him to wake. After a while, Ron gave up, claiming he couldn’t stand to see Harry like this again. Hermione understood how he felt, but she had to stay, for when he woke up, so he wouldn’t be alone, and frightened. She stayed with him for what seemed like an hour, her bushy brown head on his chest, staring at his manly shaped face, his silky raven black hair falling over his eyes. Subconsciously, she brushed it away.

A sudden movement from around the curtain startled her, and she moved her hand away. She peered at the curtains as they moved to let Professor Dumbledore walk through. He made his way over to Harry’s bed, and laid a withered old hand on his forehead, a forlorn look across his wizened face.

“Not again, Harry… You’ve seen these walls far too much…and mostly through no fault of your own.”

He paused, his hand still resting gently on Harry’s head, before turning his gaze to Hermione, smiling wearily.

“I expected to see you here, Miss Granger. I am glad you decided to stay here with Harry, he needs his friends around him, especially now that he has fallen ill…”

Hermione gave him a puzzled look. He was making it sound like something serious, and it was worrying her. Obviously, he noticed this, and carried on.

“I don’t suppose Madam Pomfrey has told you the results of the tests she took? No? Then, let me enlighten you, for I am sure you are most anxious to know. Harry has fallen ill due to lack of food and poor treatment at home, which he has not made better for himself coming back to Hogwarts. He was weak, at the beginning of this year, as you may have noticed, and during the course of this term he has been pushing himself to get better at his studies, and train for his inevitable battle with Voldemort. But, as you can see, all this stress and lack of food has gotten to him at last…”

He looked on sadly, his usually twinkling blue eyes dimmer then usual, and Hermione could fully appreciate that Dumbledore cared for Harry greatly. Hermione was unaware of the tears that had fallen down her cheeks as Dumbledore was speaking, and hastily wiped them away, as she picked up Harry’s hand in her own.

Dumbledore locked her eyes with his own at this contact between herself and Harry and smiled knowingly, something which confused Hermione slightly, and made her feel slightly curious.

“You must stick by Harry when he awakens, for he will need his friends around him. We need him to be able to open up about what happens at home, so we can try to do something about it. Otherwise, this will continue to happen…”

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She looked back up at him, her heart breaking when she thought of what he had to go through. She cared so much for Harry, her best friend in the entire world, and wished she could take his pain away, wished that she could carry his pain for him. She had to settle for giving him a hug or two, or telling him everything would be fine, and she didn’t think it was fair.

He was looking around the hospital wing, at the cards which people had sent when the news that Harry Potter had collapsed had gotten round. She knew he would hate it that people knew, but there wasn’t really that much she could do, nothing stayed secret in Hogwarts. He looked so frightened and pale, his messy black hair standing up in all directions endearingly. He began to cough, which turned into a violent coughing fit, and she rushed to get him a glass of water. He took a long sip, and smiled at her, setting the water down on the table.

“Thanks.”

Hearing his raspy, croaky voice was enough for Hermione. She began to cry, tears falling from her face, and she tried to wipe them away, for Harry was looking more and more upset. She failed miserably however and threw herself upon his chest, hugging him tightly, and crying. She felt him bring his arms around her, they were warm and comfortable, and she cried even harder.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t be crying like this! I’m not the one who’s ill! I should be thinking of you, but I feel horrible! You shouldn’t have to go through this, you shouldn’t!”

She continued to cry and Harry hugged her tighter.

“Don’t worry, Hermione,” He croaked. ”I’ll get better soon, promise…”

3. Harry

Authors Notes: Thanks for the reviews I got! They really helped. Especially the people who picked up on my likeness of the overuse of commas, I’m gonna try to keep it down a little in this chapter, k?

I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this fic anymore, I did have a full plot worked out in my head, but now it’s gone to pot. So, I’m just going to wing it and see what brilliant plans my head comes out with! ^_^

Once again, thank you so much for all the reviews! They are greatly appreciated and they spur me on to write new chapters!

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Harry stayed in the Hospital wing for a week, with frequent visits from Ron and Hermione. They stayed with him religiously, in every free moment they had. Harry knew that they were only there to make him feel better and keep him company, but he couldn’t help but get the feeling that they didn’t really want to be there at all. Except for Hermione. She stayed with him from dawn till dusk on weekends, even if Ron didn’t, and talked with him endlessly about all kinds of things. They had touched on the subject of Harry’s living conditions at home, but Harry had steered the conversation towards something else.

He had visits from other people too. The Gryffindor Quidditch team came to see how they were, and Angelina apologised for shouting at him that night. Harry waved it off with a smile. His other friends; Neville, Dean and Seamus also came to see him, laden down with pockets and pockets of Honeydukes sweets, trying to get him to eat. Even Hagrid came to see how he was, though he had no idea why Harry was there. Harry knew that if he did he would get worked up, and plot some kind of revenge on the Dursleys, maybe including a pair of pig’s ears and a tail.

It was for this reason that Harry did not tell anyone about his dismal life at home, even if it would clear up the mystery of why he was in the Hospital wing in the first place. He figured that it would cause people to worry about him, which was not something he wanted. He got enough sympathy from people for being an orphan, and he hated sympathy. He didn’t like to be made out to be weak, he couldn’t. For he was the ‘boy who lived’, the one who the wizarding world was counting on to rid the world of the evil Voldemort. He couldn’t let people know that some… muggle… had gotten to him.

After a while, however, people stopped visiting, and it became slightly more boring, even Ron’s visits were becoming a rare occurrence. He hadn’t eaten in a few days, even though he knew very well that he should. He just didn’t feel hungry, and refused all the food that Madam Pomfrey offered him, even the sweets that people had brought him. He felt tired more than usual, though he suspected this was because he wasn’t eating properly. Three days of this went on before he had Hermione scolding him for it.

“Harry, you have to eat, to keep your strength up.”

Harry looked at the tray of pumpkin pie on his lap and pulled a grimace on his handsome young face. Even if pumpkin pie was his favourite, he still didn’t feel any more hungry.

“I don’t want to. I’m not hungry.”

She sighed and flopped down in the chair right next to his bed, letting her head rest on his arm, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He looked down at her and couldn’t help but smile. She looked so adorable.

“Please, Harry?” She pleaded, her eyes boring into his and he felt himself giving in, even if he wasn’t hungry. “Eat it? For me?”

He gave her a mock dirty look. She was treating him like a baby, but he couldn’t be mad with her. Instead he tried to steer the conversation towards something else.

“Where’s Ron?” He inquired, wondering why he hadn’t seen him for a couple of days. “I haven’t seen him in a while… He hasn’t got a new girlfriend or something has he?”

Hermione looked away, becoming seemingly very interested on the pattern of the curtains. Harry stared at her.

“He… um… won’t be coming back here for a while…” She replied, still interested in the pattern of the curtain.

“Why not?” Harry was puzzled. “Was it something… I did?”

Hermione looked up at him in shock, her eyes telling him a silent no.

“Of course it isn’t! How could you have done something from in here? No, it’s more… my fault… really.”

Harry was even more puzzled. Hermione and Ron had fallen out again, so Ron couldn’t come to see him? Harry wondered what they must have fallen out over to cause that. He knew that Ron really liked Hermione, and had really been trying this year not to screw anything up between them. He watched Hermione as she looked down at her hands, her long bushy chestnut curls dangling down on one side of her face, casting a shadow on it. He noticed how much she had changed since last year, her face was more womanly, her frame filling out a little more. He knew that Hermione was growing up with the rest of them, he just hadn’t taken it in. However he noticed it now as he watched her staring at her hands worriedly. He couldn’t believe that it was all Hermione’s fault that Ron didn’t come to visit, somehow, It just couldn’t be.

“I’m sure it’s not all your fault… Have you two had a row again?”

She nodded, and looked back up at Harry again. They locked eyes for a split second, and Harry felt a strange sense of comfort, and a spark of something in his stomach. He put it down to not eating.

“What was it about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Hermione hesitated. Her face was passive, and Harry couldn’t read what she was thinking. Suddenly she straightened up and shook her head, and stood up to lean on the side of the bed.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure we can sort it out for ourselves, don’t worry about it. Now…”

She picked up the fork from the tray of pumpkin pie, and tried to hand it to him. He just stared blankly, a dry look on his face that clearly said; ‘Yeah, right.’

“You gonna eat this for me? Because I’m not leaving until you do, and I warn you, I can get annoying if I have to.”

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She didn’t leave the hospital wing until at least 10 o’clock, not satisfied until Harry had eaten at least half of the pie. She was getting more and more worried about him, and now that he had stopped eating, he was growing thinner and weaker by the day. She trudged into the common room, feeling totally exhausted. She reached the large red sofa, and threw herself onto it, sitting and staring at the embers in the fire burning out.

Laying there for a while, she contemplated on their earlier conversation. Harry seemed really upset that Ron hadn’t come to visit him in a while. She watched as his face fell when she told him he wouldn’t be coming back to visit him for a bit. He asked why, he even went as far as to blame himself. Hermione felt so bad for him, having to stay there day after day, bored out of his mind. He only had her as a regular visitor, Ron knew that. After their argument the other night however, he had promised not to go to visit Harry again.

It had started as soon as they got back from the Hospital wing, Hermione trudging onto the couch and settling herself onto the sofa. Crookshanks immediately came at her, jumping onto the sofa next to her and snuggling in cosily. Ron had sat himself in the chair nearest the fire, and seemed a little tense about something. Hermione had asked what it was, and Ron just shrugged her off, claiming that it didn’t matter. He got up and left for the boy’s dormitories, mumbling something about it not being as important as Harry, and why didn’t she scoot off back to the hospital wing like a good girlfriend. She had heard this and gotten angry, and they had a shouting match, more vicious and more hurtful than ever before. He had admitted to her his feelings for her, and in her anger, she had told him that she felt nothing for him, and her feelings for him as even a friend were fast fading. She told him she hated the way he was always teasing her, and how he never accepted the fact that she liked to do well in school. In turn, he told her that she was following Harry around like a lost sheep all the time, and he was sick of it. He hated the fact that once again, Harry had something he didn’t, and he didn’t even ask for it. He told her he wouldn’t bother to go to see Harry anymore, that was Hermione’s job, to hang around and wait on him like an obedient puppy.

They hadn’t talked since, and every time their eyes met in the corridors they just scowled and looked away. Ron’s words stung her, they played over and over again in her head at night. In her thoughts during the day he was always there, shouting at her, telling her that she was Harry’s lost puppy. The sad thing was, she thought as she sat there in front of the blazing fire, there was some element of truth behind it.

Before Harry had fallen ill, they had been almost inseparable. Harry still hung around with Ron, but he and Hermione had begun to do a lot more together, taking walks out by the lake, or going down into the kitchens for a late night snack. She loved her weekly walks around the lake with Harry, it gave her a chance to talk to him. They were rarely ever silent, when they were it was comfortable, a friendly silence. They would sit and chat for hours, if it got cold, Harry would put his arms around her, or offer his cloak. She would lean on his shoulder and they would sit and watch the moon, forgetting the time and trudging into the common room in the early hours of the morning.

She leaned back and sighed, her thoughts of Harry causing a small, peaceful smile to creep onto her face. She loved his company. Ron was right, she did follow him around. Only if he wanted her to of course, but she would always be right there if he wanted her to. She only wished that he would want her there now, and be able to open up to her about his life at home. She hoped that he would tell her soon after he had collapsed, but he had kept it to himself. Whenever she brought the conversation round that way, he had either changed the subject or fallen silent, and Hermione knew he was hiding it. She decided that maybe the best approach would be the direct one, and she wondered whether to just ask him straight out. But would he tell her? Or would he just fall silent and mumble that he didn’t want to say? She couldn’t push him, but one way or another, she would get it out of him, even if it killed her.

4. Sour Grapes?

Authors Notes: Thanks again for the reviews! I love getting them now, they’re all so good. I do like to have constructive criticism though, thanks for that Muirnin!

About the whole, Vernon writing as Harry to the order thing, I just figure that he tried to match Harry’s handwriting as much as possible. And I’m also figuring that Harry would have wanted to be left alone after Sirius’ death, so he didn’t want to go to Grimmauld place or whatever. If there’s anything else that seems amiss, just pretend it isn’t there, k? :p

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Harry’s 10th day in the white-walled hospital wing was dragging on slowly, as he sat there alone with a tray of uneaten pie on his lap. He picked at the pie, looking at it sourly. Remembering the last time he had pie, a couple of days ago, it was Hermione who had badgered him into eating it. In the end he had eaten half of it, with an encouraging smile from Hermione. Now however, it didn’t quite taste the same. He didn’t have Hermione to share it with him this time, and it made a lot of difference.

He looked out of the window at the grey cotton-wool clouds, wondering what lesson Ron and Hermione would be in right now. He was even beginning to miss his lessons, he’d rather be there laughing and chatting with his friends than in here being forced to eat pie. Sighing, he continued to pick at the pie, his face showing a grimace. Why was it that he could eat it when Hermione was here, but he couldn’t any other time? He picked it and put it on the bedside table, thinking that maybe he would try again later.

Just as he’d settled himself down again, the door of the wing creaked slowly open. To Harry’s surprise, it was Ron. He checked up and down the hospital wing once or twice, to check for the mad matron, before he made his way to Harry’s bed with quick long strides, an angry look on his freckled face.

“How are you, Harry? Happy? Comfortable? Is Hermione looking after you?” He spat viciously, and it was all Harry could do to look confused.

“What do you mean, Ron? Why have you two had a row? She told me the other day but she would say what it was about.”

“I would have thought it would have been obvious!” He spat again, and Harry looked on in more confusion. Ron was really starting to worry him.

“I bet you love it don’t you? Sitting there, lording it up while Hermione spends every day here looking after you. She doesn’t even go to the library anymore, do you know that?”

Harry was silent. He didn’t know that Hermione spent all of her time here. He figured that she would at least get some studying in before coming to see him. He felt heartened, yet at the same time guilty.

Ron was standing at Harry’s bedside, his face as red as his hair. Harry had never seen him look this agitated.

“You know very well how I feel about her, Harry…” He said, quietly and deadly. “You know that I wanted to ask her out soon. How the hell can I do that if she won’t even talk to me?”

Harry looked down at his bedcovers. He felt awful. He did know how Ron felt about her, and he had to admit, he was being selfish. He shouldn’t ask Hermione to stay here all the time, especially when it was her studying that was being affected.

“You’re… You’re right, Ron. I’m sorry. I really didn’t realise… I’ll… I’ll stop her from staying here so often, okay?”

Ron’s face softened. Harry could tell he thought there was going to be a scene about this, and he hadn’t expected Harry to take it so well.

“Thanks… Thanks, Harry. And… uh…” He looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry for not visiting you lately. I was so upset that Hermione liked you more than me, I guess… It made me mad at you as well. I was jealous. I’m sorry…”

With that he turned and walked away from Harry’s bed, his face burning a darker red than his hair. Before he reached the door however, Harry stopped him.

“Hey, Ron!”

He turned around, a sheepish look on his face. Harry smiled.

“I think you ought to sort things out with Hermione. And you never know, maybe you could ask her out at the same time? ”

Ron’s face slowly brightened, and he smiled. Nodding his head, he grinned at Harry.

“Yeah, maybe I will. See ya later, Harry.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving Harry with a satisfied smile on his face. He lay there for a moment, contemplating the conversation, glad to have his friend back again. Suddenly his stomach gave a great lurch at what he had said.

‘Maybe you could ask her out at the same time?’

Why did he say that? Did he want Ron and Hermione to get together? What would it be like if they did? Would she stop coming altogether?

Harry sank back into his bedcovers and sighed. What was wrong with Ron and Hermione going out? He should be pleased for them. He turned over on his side, his eyes growing tired and sleepy. There was something about the whole situation that made him hate the fact that she would be going out with Ron, and he didn’t know what it was. He went through millions of questions in his head.

What about their trips together? Would they stop? Harry couldn’t bear to think about what would happen to him if they did. Those trips out to the lake were his brief break from the hustle and bustle of the castle, and from Ron. Sure, he loved to hang out with Ron, but if there was something he really wanted to talk to someone about, and he couldn’t talk with Ron, he could talk to Hermione on their trips out to the lake. They talked about loads of things, Harry learnt about Hermione’s family, and she learnt about Harry as well. They would sit and hug, staring up at the moon if they ever fell into silence. Harry had never been as comfortable as he was in those moments. He felt safe, just him and Hermione, sitting under the stars, not a care in the world. Occasionally, they would look across at each other and smile, then sit closer to keep warm.

Harry remembered Hermione’s pretty smile. She didn’t need lipstick, or lip-gloss to make her smile perfect, her teeth were neatly straight and aligned, thanks to the hex that Malfoy performed in fourth year. Her lips were red and rosy, no amount of lipstick could perfect that. She had a calm, relaxed smile, not one that was fake, Harry could tell one of those when he saw them. All the other girls used them on him and the other guys when they tried to flirt. Hermione’s smile was pure, and genuine. It stretched all the way up her pretty cheeks and into her eyes. You can always tell when a person is genuinely smiling by their eyes.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked, the sunlight from the window momentarily blinding him. He went through again what he was thinking in his head. Why was he picturing Hermione’s smile? Why was he so worried that she would go out with Ron? Maybe he was beginning to see what Ron had all along, but to his folly, just a little too late.

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Hermione trudged into the common room earlier than usual that night, after the usual visit to see Harry. He was more subdued than usual, sneaking glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking and hardly ever talking. She had managed to make him eat a whole pumpkin-pie without fuss, and that was when she started to think something was wrong.

When it started to get dark, he told her to go. She was a little taken aback by this, and slightly hurt. Harry must have seen the hurt in her eyes and told her it wasn’t because he didn’t want her there, but because he thought she might need to study or something. Hermione was touched by this, Harry even thought of her when he was ill. So she stayed with him for only an hour longer before she left.

She flopped onto the common room sofa, breathless, and stared into the roaring flames in the fireplace. There was something about being with Harry that always left her breathless. She loved being with him all the time, even when they were sitting in silence, she loved him to be there. She had figured all this out that night in bed, after Harry had found out about the row between Ron and herself. She came to the conclusion that she didn’t just love being with him, she loved the way he was always compassionate, kind, gentle, always there for her and cheering her up even when it was him who was meant to be cheered up. She loved his handsome face and his messy longish hair, that stuck out in all angles, not in a horrible way, but in a funny, endearing way. She knew he had his fair share of admirers since he’d donned his old, black glasses for steel rimmed, nice new ones. Behind those glasses hid the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, and she loved them too. She didn’t just love all that about him, she loved him.

Just at the moment, Ron burst through the common room portrait, looking flushed and out of breath. He spotted Hermione and caught her eye, although this time it wasn’t with a spiteful scowl. Hermione looked back at him, not sure whether to scowl or smile, until he walked over to the chair beside hers and sat down, breathing deeply.

“I’ve… I’ve just come back from seeing Harry…” He confessed, fiddling with his robe. He looked up at her and tried to smile. “I’m sorry, Hermione, I shouldn’t have taken my jealousy out on him or you.”

Hermione was quite surprised to see Ron sitting there and saying that. She had figured he would take a lot longer than this to admit his mistakes and shelve his manly pride. She shook her head, feeling she had some apologising to do herself.

“And I’m sorry that I said those things… about hating you and hating the way you make fun of me. It’s not that bad… really… it just… gets a little annoying at times, you know?”

She caught his eye and they smiled. Everything was alright again between them. She moved forward and put her arms around him, hugging him with a friendly smile.

“I’m glad I’m friends with you again, Hermione. You now know how much you mean to me…”

“I know, I know. I’m glad we’re friends too.”

He broke away, his face looking a tad sheepish. Hermione looked confused. Hadn’t he already apologised?

“Actually, I went to see Harry earlier as well, during Divination…” He said, his eyes reflecting a strange glint. “He, uh, actually knocked some sense into me. Not literally of course… but you get what I mean…”

Hermione was even more confused. What was going on here? Ron continued to look sheepish, still fiddling with a patch of his robes that would quickly become a hole if he wasn’t careful.

“Um, he suggested, that… maybe… I should ask you out…” His face went darker than his hair and Hermione silently gulped. Harry told him to do that?

Her heart sank, as she watched him struggle with the words. Harry told Ron to ask her out? That could only mean one thing, she told herself, the tears threatening to drop from her eyes. Harry didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t care about her as much as she thought he did. All those late nights, snuggling under the moon, were they all just platonic?

She turned her attention back to Ron, her eyes threatening to fill up, a solid lump residing in her throat. He looked back up at her, and smiled nervously.

“Hermione, will you go out with me?”

She couldn’t stop the tears now. What was the point of holding onto some false hope of Harry loving her, when he told his best friend to ask her out? She would be okay, here with dependable Ron, and she wouldn’t have to let him down either, not when they had just made friends again. With a reluctant nod, she gulped, tears running down her cheeks.

“Yes…” She said dejectedly, though Ron did not notice. “Yes, I will.”

Ron looked elated, his eyes filling up with a clear happiness, and he leaned in towards her. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable, with a pang of melancholy in her heart, as their lips met. There was no spark, no dancing angels, no crashing waves or birds singing. Hermione felt nothing. She felt incredibly guilty. She was leading Ron on, but she did love him, only as a friend, but he was her best friend and she couldn’t let him down now. Besides, the one she wanted didn’t want her, so why inflict the same fate on Ron?

They broke apart, Ron smiling genuinely, and Hermione trying to smile. He reached up and wiped her tears away with his thumb, leaning forward and kissing her lightly on the lips. She laughed nervously, sniffling from the tears. After a moment, she moved away, yawning widely and fake. She stood up, and looked down at Ron with a tearful fake smile.

“It’s late, I think I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Ron?”

With that, she turned and walked away to her dormitory, where she could shut the curtains of her bed and cry alone in peace.

5. Misunderstandings Misunderstood

Authors Notes: Thank you to all those that gave good reviews, they are very much appreciated. However, those who just flamed, there was no need for it. Yes, I know very well that the plot of Hermione and Ron has been used a lot, but don’t you think that the reason for that is because it makes a good plot? And besides, I suggest you wait till you’ve read ALL of my fic before you judge on whether it’s exactly the same as the rest of them. I will have a twist in my own fic. So there. Any more flame reviews will be deleted, as there was no need for them.

But to all those who gave good reviews… You’re all stars! J

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Harry smiled as Hermione entered the Hospital Wing next day, as per usual. He was wondering whether Ron had made up with her yet, after their little talk yesterday. However, that wasn’t the only thing he was wondering. He looked up as another person entered the wing right behind her, and was pleasantly surprised when he found it was Ron. He grinned at them both from his bed, but wondered why they were standing so close to each other. He looked down, but didn’t like what he saw.

They were holding hands, Ron’s large freckled hand in her heavenly soft one, and Ron was wearing a large grin on his face. He winked at Harry as they moved closer to his bed, and Harry’s heart sank. He looked over to Hermione, and was surprised and confused to find that her smile, as he could tell so easily, was fake. It didn’t reach her eyes like it usually did, and there wasn’t the usual sparkle in her eyes. There wasn’t the calmness that usually came with Hermione’s smile, but Ron had not seemed to notice.

“How you doing, mate? You feeling any better?”

Harry struggled to keep his voice tone normal. He couldn’t expect to sound cheerful, after what he had just witnessed, but at least he could stop them from asking too many questions by keeping his voice level.

“A little.”

“Good, Good. Actually, we- er… we came to thank you… for what you said to me yesterday, didn’t we Hermione?”

She looked up and nodded, the fake smile still in place on her face. Harry gave her a questioning look when Ron wasn’t looking, but she ignored it.

“I asked Hermione out last night, and well, you can see….”

He reached over and draped his arms on her shoulders. She reluctantly lifted a hand to his and entwined his fingers in hers, but Harry could tell she wasn’t happy. Harry tired to smile at them, but it came out as more of a grimace, and this time, they picked up on it.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Hermione immediately asked, earning a dark look from Ron. Harry chose to ignore it and shook his head.

“It’s nothing… just a headache. I suppose it comes from sitting down doing nothing all day. I wish I could be out flying or something…”

“Yeah…” Ron replied, looking out of the window to the Quidditch pitch. “Don’t worry, Angelina’s working us like dogs, so you aren’t missing too much. Besides, you don’t need practice! You’re a natural born seeker…”

They talked for a while about Quidditch, while Hermione listened in, half-heartedly it seemed. Harry stole glances at her when Ron wasn’t looking, and whenever she wasn’t pretending to smile at Ron’s jokes, or joining in with the rest, she kept herself to herself and stayed quiet. She looked quite subdued and maybe a little sad. Once she looked up at Harry when Ron was on rambling about something or other and their eyes locked. His stomach gave the funny pang again and he gave her an inquiring look, which she returned. Their silent conversation was broken when Ron announced that he needed to go to the bathroom.

As Ron left, shutting the curtains behind him with a suspicious look, Harry immediately turned to Hermione.

“So… I suppose… congratulations are in order?”

Hermione looked confused, then realised and went back to her sad state.

“Oh… yeah. Thanks.”

She looked down at her skirt, looking more and more upset about something. Harry was about to ask her what it was before she cut across him.

“Harry, why did you tell Ron to ask me out?”

Harry looked shocked for a second. He hadn’t expected that. Fiddling with a patch of quilt he sighed.

“I… don’t know. He likes you… and he seemed so upset over it… so… and I figured that maybe you liked him?”

Hermione looked like she was on the verge of shaking her head before she stopped herself. She looked a little brighter however when she said.

“Oh… I thought it was because…”

“Back!”

She rolled her eyes before turning to Ron, the fake smile plastered across her face. Harry felt deprived. What was it she wanted to tell him?

They talked for another hour it seemed, until it got dark, and Ron thought that they’d better be going.

“We’ll see you tomorrow okay, mate?” He let Hermione walk on in front and held back to talk to Harry.

“Thanks again for the advice, mate. I wouldn’t have her if it wasn’t for you. I owe you one!”

He clapped Harry on the back and grinned, before following Hermione to the door. She let him go through first, before turning back to Harry, and smiling, genuinely. Harry smiled back, meeting her eyes with his own, before Ron called her and she turned and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence, holding hands. Ron kept sneaking glances over at her, but she kept her face passive, inwardly thinking. Harry had seemed upset when he found out about her and Ron, even though Ron hadn’t noticed it. She knew he kept stealing glances at her, trying to catch her eye when Ron wasn’t looking, to ask her silently if she was okay. She loved the way he did that, and she hated herself for loving it.

He seemed to know that her smile wasn’t real, only Harry could tell. She knew his smile wasn’t genuine either, for it didn’t make his eyes glow a bright green like it did when she made him smile. Even while Ron was there having a totally different conversation with him, he still managed to figure out something was wrong. Then when Ron went out of the room, he was on the verge of asking her, she knew it. But she had to cut across him, she had to know. And she was immensely pleased with her answer.

She had expected him to say something along the lines of; “Because you’re perfect for each other!” or “Because I think you’d make a great couple!” but he didn’t. He thought she liked Ron, and for a moment, she was about to shake her head. It meant that Harry didn’t tell Ron to ask her out because he had no feelings for her at all, if he had any now that is, it meant that he thought she didn’t have feelings for him.

They reached the common room and Ron sat on the sofa, expecting Hermione to come and sit with him. When she made her way to the stairs of the girls dormitory, he called out to her.

“Hey, is something wrong, Hermione? Because you didn’t say a word all the way back here, and you seemed quiet back there in the hospital wing…”

She turned and smiled her fake smile at him. Poor Ron… she was leading him on. She couldn’t help it, but she couldn’t let him down either, not after just one day.

“No, I’m fine… really. I’m just a little tired. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He got up, and quickly ran over to her before she turned, and smiled at her before planting his lips on her own in a goodnight kiss. Once again, she felt nothing, but smiled her fake smile again as she pulled away.

“Goodnight, Hermione.”

She smiled her big fake smile at him before turning back to the girls dormitories. Once she got to the top of the stairs she leaned against the wall and sighed.

Harry didn’t not love her… of course she didn’t know whether he did or not… but his face today showed that he harboured some feelings towards her by the way his face fell when he saw her and Ron together. All she wanted to do all day was to hug him, or climb up and sit beside him like she normally would and play with his hair, or fuss over him like Mrs. Weasley while he sat there refusing to eat pie. They hadn’t even bothered to try to make him eat today, they had totally forgot. They hadn’t even made any progress on getting Harry to open up either. Hermione settled herself into bed and sighed. Feeling her eyes getting heavy, she leaned on her side to try to go to sleep. Finally she drifted off with a peaceful smile on her face. However it wasn’t Ron she dreamt about.

6. Dreams and Midnight Wanderings

Authors Notes: Thanks for all the reviews AGAIN! They really are appreciated. Though it appears that some people are confused as to what year they are in. They’re actually in their 6th year, as one of the reasons that Harry wanted to be alone in the summer was because he wanted to grieve Sirius’ death in peace. You’ll find it all out if this chapter and hopefully be a little less confused! And about Hermione leaving the Hospital wing early chapter before last, I figured that Hermione would respect his wishes, plus she would be feeling pretty tired after always going to see Harry, so she deserved a break.

Just so you know, the Italics below is Harry’s dream, so you don’t get confused.

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He walked down a long church aisle, decorated with pretty bowls of pink, blue and white flowers on pillars. Making his solitary way down to the front, where two familiar people were standing at the altar, holding hands, he felt a twinge of sadness and anger in his heart. He started to run towards them, his actions slowed down by half. He began to get frustrated, and started to shout to them, incoherently without proper words, just funny muffled sounds coming from his mouth.

After a moment, one of the people at the altar turned around. She was wearing a large flowing white dress, and looked incredible. Harry had never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. He looked up at her face, and got the shock of his life when Hermione’s face was there, tears running freely down her cheeks, her eyes red and bloodshot. Harry had never seen her looking so beautiful, he wondered why she was crying. He turned to the other person, the groom, and was shocked to see that it was Ron. He had a huge happy smile on his face, and patted Harry on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, mate… thanks for giving me that advice… I owe you one!”

He turned away and Harry turned his attention back to Hermione, the tears were still running down her pretty porcelain cheeks, and Harry tried to bring a hand up to wipe them away, but for some reason, he couldn’t reach her. She just stood there in front of him, crying.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Harry? Why didn’t you open up to me? I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you…”

Harry’s stomach plummeted, and he began to back away, hearing Hermione’s words echo in his head. He reached up and grabbed his head with his hands, trying to rid it of her voice.

“I hate you, Harry… I hate you…”

*

He jumped awake, his eyes wide and his face covered in sweat. Reaching around on the bedside table he found his glasses and put them on, the room coming back into focus.

It was all a dream… Ron and Hermione didn’t get married… she didn’t say those things…

He knew what the dream was about though. He had to tell her… now.

He got out of bed, still only clad in his boxers, and reached around in the dark until he found his dressing gown. It felt slightly strange to be up and walking again, after spending so much time in bed, but he put this thought to one side. He didn’t have much time. He needed to get to Gryffindor Tower without being seen by anybody.

He slipped his slippers on, and quietly crept out of the Hospital Wing, closing the door with a soft snap as he left. Turning around, he was faced with the cold stone corridors. He wrapped his dressing gown tighter around him and silently walked on, careful to keep an eyes out for Filch or his cat. At the back of his mind was a rational thought, why was he doing this? Couldn’t it wait until morning? No, he decided. It couldn’t wait.

He tiptoed through the dark draughty corridors of the castle, his feet making a soft pat on the hard cold floor. Remembering his way around, he slipped through several tapestries and went along a few short-cuts, hoping to be hidden from anyone who may be lurking about. Finally he made his way to the Fat Lady’s portrait and silently prodded her awake, gently. With a splutter and a yawn she was awake… barely. She didn’t even get angry when Harry gave her the password, she seemed to be too tired to notice that it was the dead of the night. Harry gave the password (Tiddly om-pom pom) and crept into the portrait hole.

The common room was quite creepy as night, large beams of silver moonlight came from the window and basked everything in a delicate silver mist. Except for the large dark shadows, they stayed still and silent, like big hooded Dementors. Harry shuddered and quickly crept his way through to the girls dormitory stairs, placing a foot on the bottom step. Suddenly he paused. Memories of when Ron had tried to make his way up to the girls dormitories in 5th year came back to him with a smile, and he withdrew his foot. He had to think of a way to get up those stairs, without coming crashing back down again and waking the whole house.

Crossing the room, the ran silently up the boys dormitory steps and into the dorm. The boys were sleeping soundly in their comfortable looking four posters and Harry felt a little envious. Clearing his head of unneeded thoughts he crept over to his bedside table, opened a drawer and took out his wand.

Creeping back down into the common room was an easy task, Neville’s and Ron’s snores were enough to muffle the sound of his slippers on the scarlet carpet. Crossing to the girls dorms once again, he held his wand up, silently praying it would work. He put the wand to his feet and made the familiar ‘swish and flick’ motion that came with the incantation; “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Immediately, his feet began to hover about 6 inches off the ground, and he silently punched the air in relief. Turning back to the girls dorms, he successfully made his way up the steps without actually touching them, and silently opened the door.

The girls dorms were a lot less cluttered and more pretty looking than the boys. The walls were painted scarlet, just like the boys dorms, but you could actually see them, whereas the boy’s walls were plastered with posters and pictures. The only posters were on Lavender and Parvati’s walls, and they were of some guy called ‘Matt Steele’ in denim jeans. Harry made his way over to the centre of the room, trying to decipher which bed was Hermiones. Finally, he chose upon the one in the corner, as there were no posters and a lot of books surrounding it. Opening the curtains ever so slightly, he found he was correct.

She looked so beautiful. She was lying on her back with her head to one side, her hair sprawled out behind her on the pillow and the light from where Harry had opened the curtains was bathing her in a silver moonlight. She stirred, and the light reflected off her face perfectly. From what Harry could see she was wearing a strapped, pink nightgown. He softly crept onto the edge of her bed, and watched her for a while, letting her sleep before he woke her up.

He couldn’t help but feel like he wanted to kiss her. Here she was, lying there, asleep, looking like a Greek goddess, the moonlight basking her beautiful features perfectly, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. She was Ron’s girlfriend now, it was too late for him. He had realised what Ron had known was there all along, but it was too late. However, he didn’t think even Ron felt as strongly for her as he did. Those late-night walks by the lake, those midnight trips to the Kitchens, he got to know her like no one else, and she him. He couldn’t help thinking that those trips weren’t strictly platonic. At least not to him anyway.

He decided to wake her before she woke up herself and screamed and woke everyone up. Thinking this, he stopped and cast a silencing charm around the curtains before waking her up, so no one would overhear their conversation, if they did wake up. Slowly, he reached a hand out and brushed a lock of bushy hair from her face. She shifted, and he called out softly to her.

“Hermione? ‘Mione, wake up….”

‘Mione? Since when did he call her that?

She shifted and opened her eyes, rubbing a little sleep out of them before looking up at Harry’s face, her beautiful brown chocolate pools for eyes wide. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes again, then looked up at Harry again. She reached out a dainty hand and touched him, just under the neck. The touch sent shivers through his soul but he ignored it, as he smiled, a pure smile. She smiled back, sleepily.

“Harry, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night! And you’re meant to be in bed!”

She tried to keep her voice to a whisper, not wanting to wake the others, but she seemed excited that Harry was there. Harry was surprised. He thought she’d be angry at being woken up this late.

“It’s okay, I’ve put a silencing charm around the curtains. I.. Uh… I wanted to tell you something.”

She sat up, immediately awake, the sleepiness vanishing in an instant. Harry looked up at her, a nervous look on his face. She had been waiting for him to open up to her, the dream was right.

“I… I wanted to tell you… about.. why I’m so thin… “ He started, looking down at his dressing gown and fiddling with the tie. “It’s… it’s because of… the Dursleys….”

He told her. He told her everything, every single brutal detail, about how they would starve him and keep his wages for ‘rent‘, how Dudley would invite his gang to beat up Harry whenever Harry cheeked him. He told her about how Uncle Vernon stole Hedwig from him and used parchment and a quill himself to write to the Order of the Phoenix, copying Harry’s writing as best he could and telling them that Harry was OK. He didn’t visit them at first because he wanted to be left alone, to grieve over Sirius in peace, but after a while, it was just shame keeping him there to be beaten up and starved.

He looked up at Hermione after telling his story and was upset to find tears running down her face. She looked totally shocked, even more so then after he’d told her about the prophecy. Her pretty rosy red lips were parted as her mouth was open, and she brought a hand up to her mouth in shock.

“I’m sorry to wake you like this, Hermione…” he sighed, glad that it was dark so she couldn’t see his burning face. “But I needed to tell you… I know you wanted me to open up to you… so I am.”

He coughed slightly, and began to turn away, his hand reaching for the curtains to leave. As his hand touched the velvet curtain, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He turned, and saw Hermione kneeling, her soft dainty hand on his shoulder and tears running down her face. This was exactly what he didn’t want, to make her worry, but he needed to tell her.

Silently, she wrapped her slender arms around his head, kneeling up so Harry’s face was buried in her stomach. She stroked his hair while he brought his arms around her, inconveniently wrapped around her behind, but he had no where else to put them. He could feel a lump in his throat, from all the aggravation he had caused, all the emotional stress he’d been through, and now this. He was hugging his best friend’s girl, in the middle of the night, in her bed. His eyes began to sting and he felt a little dizzy. He ignored this however when she began to talk to him soothingly.

“It’s alright, Harry… we can sort it out now…I’ll sort it out… I promise.”

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She held him there, silently for a while, stroking and playing with his hair while he cried softly into her stomach. She felt horrible, she had no idea that it was that bad for Harry at home. He had completely opened up to her, about why he didn’t tell her, and how it made him feel, knowing that he let someone push him around like that and make him feel that way. Her heart ached in sadness as they held each other, afraid to let go.

After a while however, he broke away, his eyes red and bloodshot. He turned away from her and from what she could see in the dim moonlight his face was burning. She took his hands to stop her running away, her heart jumping at the contact, but she had to do this. For Harry. He looked a little scared of the contact actually, his eyes showing a tiny spark of fear, and something else. Hermione stroked his hands with her thumb and smiled up at him tearfully.

“You alright now, Harry? Don’t worry, everything will be fine. I’m not going to tell anyone of what you told me tonight, okay?”

He looked up at her, relief evident in his eyes and smiled. He continued to look at her hands locked with his own, and Hermione watched him, wondering whether she should ask him. She had already seen the reaction he gave when he saw her and Ron holding hands, and she could tell that this killed him now. She knew he would never do anything on purpose to hurt his best friend, but something was really bugging him about being here and she knew very well what it was.

She forgot about Ron for a minute, her head filled with buzzing questions; should I? Shouldn’t I? What if he doesn’t like me? What if he does?

She looked at his face, which hid a pained expression, the eyes practically shouting it out from behind his steel rimmed glasses. He looked broken, torn in between staying here with her all night, enjoying her company, or running, being a good best friend to Ron and running back to the Hospital Wing.

Slowly her heart took over and she reached up and lifted his glasses from his face. He looked back at her, the eyes now fully revealed, not hidden behind glasses anymore and they looked confused. She set the glasses down by her pillow and turned back to him, cupping his cheek in her hand and stroking his lips with her thumb. He closed his eyes, tears threatening to fall again. He knew this was wrong, the look on his face told her so, yet to her it seemed right. So right. Like they were perfect for each other.

He brought a hand up to place on her own and opened his eyes. They were glossed over with tears that had not fallen and her heart broke. She had to tell him now, even if she was with Ron, if she didn’t tell him now, there would always be ’what-ifs’. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, her face casting a sad look. She opened her eyes again and locked them with Harry’s, he looked back.

“Harry, I have to tell you… now… I- “

He looked startled, he knew what she was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it, for Ron’s sake. Something made him stay right where he was though and she continued.

“I… love you…”

She dropped her hands into her lap and turned her face down away from him. There. She had said it. She may as well have cheated on Ron.

Harry was silent, she couldn’t see his face for hers was turned downwards, but she felt warm hands around her own, and a strong finger underneath her chin. She let her face by lifted by Harry, who’s face looked positively terrified. He took her small hands in his own, his skin feeling like velvet to hers and held them up his chest, still locking her eyes with his own.

“I love you too…”

Hermione’s heart flew to her throat and she smiled, letting out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Harry smiled too, nervously of course but it was still pure, still genuine. She leaned closer to him, her lips parting slightly, forgetting for a moment that she had a boyfriend, and met Harry’s lips with her own. Immediately there was sparks between them, Hermione had never felt anything like it. Some kind of gravity pulled them together, and they both kneeled, lips still met. Harry brought his arms around her shoulders and hugged her closer as she ran her tongue along his lips. They opened and she gained entry to his mouth, kissing him deeply and passionately. He returned the favour and she brought her hands around him, exploring his back through his dressing gown. She was pleasantly surprised to find he only had boxers on underneath, and continued to let her hands roam his back. He was doing the same for her, his hands fiddling with the straps on her nightgown. She leaned backwards onto her pillow, taking Harry with her.

They broke apart for air and immediately kissed again, eager to have the feeling of completeness once again. They fit together perfectly, Harry’s mouth against hers felt so right and blissful, she would never feel this with Ron…

Ron…

They both seemed to have the same idea at the same time, for they sprang apart and looked at each other, Harry’s face hovering over her own. Together they said in unison;

“What have we done?”

7. The Aftermath

Harry woke up the next morning a large smile plastered across his face. He just had the most perfect dream about Hermione and himself, and kept his eyes shut to try and savour the image. He dreamt that he had woken up in the middle of the night, hurriedly made his way to her dormitory and opened up to her. In the end, they had admitted that they loved each other and kissed. Harry yawned and moved over to his side, and found that his legs were sort of aching. Confused, he sat up stiffly, his legs feeling like he’d run a marathon. Then it suddenly hit him. He had, or as good as.

It wasn’t a dream, all the stuff he thought was a blissful dream really happened. Hermione had kissed him last night, and they had admitted their love for each other. Harry absent-mindedly licked his lips. He could still taste her there, still the raspberry taste that was distinctly Hermione. Smiling blissfully, he tried to remember what happened after that and as it hit him, his eyes grew wide and his face cast a guilty grimace.

Ron.

*

“What have we done?”

Harry immediately sprang up from his previous position of lying right on top of Hermione, his hands in her soft bushy hair. He still felt flushed and hot and she looked she was too. Moving away from her, her stared at her, his eyes showing his absolute shock and guilt.

“Ron… What about Ron?”

She bit her lips, looking down, her eyes beginning to well up. He knew she really didn’t want to hurt Ron, neither did he, not after they had all just made friends again. He couldn’t help this however, this was not something he’d planned and he couldn’t help but feel this way towards Hermione. He felt utterly confused and it seemed to be written all over his face, as Hermione looked up at him with a worried expression.

“What are we going to do?”

Harry shook his head in a forlorn way of saying he didn’t know. He looked over to her again, his eyes meeting hers and felt the same spark there. If he stayed here now, things would only escalate to get out of hand.

“I…” He began to move towards the curtain reluctantly, Hermione casting him an upset glance. “I have to go… I shouldn’t be here…”

He pushed the curtains open silently, and swung his legs over the side of Hermione’s large velvet bed, looking out into the moonlight bathed dorm. On his right shoulder he felt her touch, the feel of it sending pulses through his entire being. He looked back at her, apologising with his eyes. Her own were full of tears, and she sniffed.

“Harry…I love you…”

He gulped, his face reflecting confusion and guilt. He shouldn’t be here doing this, not to Ron. However he couldn’t leave her like this, upset and torn. He looked back at her, and placed a hand on her damp cheek, smiling. Leaning forwards, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips, before pulling away, leaving his heart on her lips.

“I love you too, Hermione,” He whispered, the silencing charm no longer in effect after he had pulled the curtains apart. “But I can’t do this to Ron… I can’t. I don’t know what to do… I’m sorry… I have to go.”

With that he stood and swiftly but silently crossed the girls dorms, across the common room and out through the portrait hole. He ran flat out back to the hospital wing, or as fast as he could considering his condition and managed to get to his bed before collapsing under the sheets, totally drained of energy.

*

He lay there, contemplating on what had happened, what would happen. What would happen after last night? Would they go on like nothing ever happened? Harry couldn’t bear it if they did. He longed for Hermione’s soft touch again, he wanted to feel that warmth and completeness that he felt when she kissed him. They had almost gone a little too far last night, but it showed that they loved each other. He couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else, he had never felt that way when Cho kissed him. He didn’t even want to think about kissing anyone else. He wanted Hermione, and to his joy, she wanted him too.

But it wasn’t to be. She was with Ron, and there was no way he could break that friendship between the three of them. They had been through so much and stuck together through the thick of it all. Ron was the first friend he’d ever had, and Harry was eternally grateful for that.

He turned over miserably in his bed. He felt a lot better physically. He still hadn’t eaten much, but the pumpkin pie that Hermione had forced him to eat made him feel a little more healthy. Madam Pomfrey said that he would be able to leave here soon, and maybe he and Hermione could go on one of their moonlit walks together, like they always did. Or would Ron put a stop to that?

He decided that today would be the day that would clarify things. If Hermione told Ron, then he’d lose a good friend. But if she didn’t, then he’d lose the girl he loved. Even if she just stayed close as a friend, Harry didn’t think he could bear that. Not after last night. He had tasted a little bit of what it was like to be with her and he longed for that feeling again. He needed to talk to Hermione, to sort things out. He needed to know whether it was worth telling Ron, because if she didn’t want to, then it would be obvious that she didn’t feel the same way. But she had said it first last night! She was the one who kissed Harry! If she didn’t feel the same way then they wouldn’t be in this situation.

He rolled over again, his legs maintaining a dull ache. He would try to talk to her about it today, when Ron wasn’t there. It wasn’t going to be an easy task, but Harry promised himself he would try.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Hermione nervously entered the hospital wing the next day, she instantly looked to Harry’s bed, expecting to see him there, maybe sleeping softly or reading a book. When he wasn’t there, she looked around and was pleasantly surprised to find him by the window. He turned and met her eyes and she smiled.

She couldn’t help but feel slightly elated. Harry loved her, and she loved Harry. The only thing standing in their way was Ron. Harry had left last night, claiming he loved her, but telling her that he couldn’t do this to Ron. She felt horrible then, but she figured that everything would sort itself out. She felt slightly guilty at the fact that she only thought of Ron as an obstacle, something that was standing in her way of happiness, when he thought of her as something completely opposite. She resented the fact that she would have to tell him soon, and leave him broken.

As she was pondering these thoughts, smiling radiantly to Harry, who beamed back, Ron came from behind and wrapped long lanky arms around her small waist. She jumped and looked slightly alarmed for a second, something which Harry picked up on as he looked on, a scowl barely lining his face. Ron wasn’t looking of course, so she gave him an apologetic look, then took Ron’s hands from around her waist and turned to Ron.

“Come on, we’re here to see Harry, remember?”

Ron grinned and nodded, before turning to Harry, beaming a hello at him.

“Morning, Harry? See you’re feeling better… Sleep well last night?”

At this Harry’s eyes caught hers and he smiled, a knowing smile which she returned.

“Yup. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.”

Ron grinned at him, and walked over to the chair beside Harry’s bed, leaning a long lanky arm on the linen sheets. He looked over to Harry and cocked his head.

“When did they say you’d be able to get out of here?”

Harry, who had been smiling at Hermione, jerked back to attention and turned to Ron, who looked slightly suspicious for a second. Hermione was alarmed for a moment, but Harry seemed to cover it up well by answering swiftly.

“Not long now, probably a couple of days. I can’t wait to get out on that Quidditch pitch again.”

Ron laughed loudly and Hermione let out the breath she was holding. She let them talk on and on about Quidditch once again, as she stood at the window, on the impression of watching the Hogwarts grounds at the window. Every now and then she snuck a glance at Harry, who glanced back and smiled. This went on all day, with Ron’s endless tirade about Quidditch rules and Filch’s cat and Harry and Hermione sneaking small pure genuine smiles at each other. His smile seemed to calm her down. Everything didn’t seem as bad when Harry smiled at her, it was like he was silently telling her that everything would be Ok. She glanced over to him and smiled, not noticing Ron was looking. This earned them a suspicious look.

“What’s so funny, you two? What’s with all the smiling?”

Harry looked alarmed as he turned his face towards nay other direction than Hermione, who gulped. Thinking fast, she turned to Ron with a calm smile.

“I’m just glad Harry’ll be getting out of here soon, is all. Nothing funny…”

Ron nodded suspiciously, and Hermione inwardly gulped again. She was sure he had noticed something between her and Harry, even if he didn’t show it. She threw him a large pretty fake smile before turning back to the window and staring out along the sweeping lawns of Hogwarts. The sun was high in the clear beautifully blue sky and it was a lovely day. The lake was as still as glass, the giant squid seemed to be sleeping. She imagined Harry and herself down there, snuggling up on the lake banks or standing, holding hands as the sun went down. She was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn’t notice the silence that had ensued from her previous statement and Ron’s cough to get her attention. He coughed louder and she jumped and turned around at him, smiling widely and fake.

“I’m going to the bathroom… be right back…”

She nodded watched him walk out of the pink-flowered curtains, letting out a breath as she heard footsteps and a door slam.

She immediately turned to Harry, who stood by the white wall, beaming. Without a second thought she ran over to him, throwing her arms around him and sealing her lips on his. Harry’s eyes opened wide with surprise before he chuckled into her mouth and kissed her soundly back. Her hands went up into his tangled black hair as she moved closer to him, crushing him against the wall. His hands told her he didn’t care as they moved to her delicate waist, pulling her closer to him.

Eventually they broke apart for air and stood locking eyes and breathing deeply, pure smiles etched all over their faces. Harry was the first to speak and he sounded breathless and husky.

“Wow… I’ve been waiting all day for that…”

She giggled and leaned her head on his chest, hugging him tightly. This was how it was meant to be, just her and Harry, in pure bliss, no one to hinder them. She felt perfect, Harry made her feel so pretty and so beautiful, and she loved the feeling she got from him. Pity it couldn’t be this way…

Harry seemed to have the same idea, as he pulled her away from him and began to speak.

“I think we need to talk… about Ron.”

Her eyes cast a downward glance, her heart suddenly filled with guilt. She had to tell him, it wasn’t Harry’s job to tell him. She was his girlfriend, she kissed Harry first. She loved Harry, so she had to tell him. She just didn’t know when.

“I… I want to tell him, Harry, I really do. But it’s going to really hurt him, I know it is and I don’t want to do that to him…”

Harry hugged her closer and she had to stop the lump in her throat giving her stray tears.

“I know, I know… I don’t want to do it either, he was my first friend… but, if we tell him exactly how and why it happened, there might just be the possibility he won’t stay mad at us for too long.”

Hermione nodded into his chest, sniffing to keep the tears in. Ron would be back soon and it wouldn’t look very good if she were breathless and crying. Harry caressed her back in a soft gentle hug, his head resting on her own.

“Ron’ll be back soon… I guess we better…”

He broke away, his eyes locking with hers. He brought a strong pale hand up to cup her cheek, gently rubbing her mouth with his thumb. He smiled his pure and handsome smile, which she returned.

“Everything will be alright, I promise. I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

He brought his lips on hers for a long moment, holding them there in a sweet kiss. Breaking apart, they heard a door shut and footsteps walking across the wing. They sprang apart and Hermione retreated back to the window, Harry to sit on his bed just as Ron burst through the curtains with an angry look on his face.

“Stupid Filch! He caught me running to the toilets! He gave me a detention for it, inventing some stupid rule about not running in the corridors! How pathetic is that? I ask you…”

Harry and Hermione listened to Ron grumbling about Filch, holding back laughter and casting sympathetic looks at him when he glared at them. As he continued, Harry listened in as Hermione began to drift off, turning her gaze back out the stone window into the Hogwarts grounds. He said everything would be alright and if Harry said it, she would believe it. This would all get sorted out soon enough, and maybe, just maybe, they could go on their moonlit walk after all.

8. You

Authors notes: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I love it when people try to guess what’s coming next! Heh, still, no one has hit it right on the head yet, but there are a few close guesses!

I’m hoping to get this fic recommended on the forums… I’ve heard that a lot of people have it in their favourites :D(Thanks for that!). ^_^

So… on the story!

*

When Ron and Hermione left the Hospital Wing that evening, Harry’s face fell. He didn’t think he could bear imagining them walking through the long draughty halls of Hogwarts, holding hands, Hermione forcing a fake smile as Ron unsuspectingly draped an arm around her, protecting her from the cold. Harry wanted to do that. He wanted to be the one to keep her warm from the cold, and snuggle cosily with her in front of the warm Gryffindor Common room fire, watching the dusky autumn sky turning into a spectrum of pinks, red and oranges. He wanted to watch her as the dim twilight fell on her face, as see whether it was possible for her to look any more beautiful than she already did. He wanted to be the one to give her a goodnight kiss.

He watched them rise from their seats, Ron throwing a smile at Hermione, who threw back a fake one. They told him they’d be back tomorrow, and that he should eat something tonight. Walking through the white walled wing to the exit, Harry noticed that Hermione had let her bulging school bag next to his bed. He was about to call out to her before she left, to tell her to come back to get it, but before he could she came bounding through the curtains, a cheeky smile on her face, and Harry got the strong impression that she had left it there on purpose. Picking it up, she leaned over to Harry’s face with her pretty pure smile, and breathed softly to him.

“I want my goodnight kiss…”

He laughed gently and planted a soft chaste kiss on her beautiful rosy red lips. Giggling slightly, she kissed him back quickly before disappearing through the pink flowered curtains. He heard her footsteps as she ran back to Ron, and he settled down in his stiff white linen Hospital bed, a firm, pure, warm smile fully fixed on his face. He had never felt happier. All his life he had no proper family, no love from any of the Dursleys. He hadn’t had any friends at primary school; they were all too scared of Dudley’s gang to even talk to him. Stuck under the cupboard under the stairs, he grew up not knowing what love was, of course he’d heard of it, but he thought that it only existed in some people, not for him.

Now however, he thought as his brilliant green eyes faded into tiredness and his heavy eyelids drooped, he knew the exact meaning of love. People had told him that someone his age couldn’t even begin to understand the complexity and meaningfulness of love, but he did. The meaning of love for him was a simple answer, Hermione. She was his meaning.

His eyes drooped and closed gently, and thoughts of moonlit walks entered his head. Once he got out of here, he promised himself sleepily as he lay there, sleep washing over him like waves on a deserted evening beach, he would take Hermione on the most beautiful, most romantic moonlit walk they had ever had. He would take his Firebolt, and they would sail over the lake, and maybe fly across the moonlit sky over to one of the castle roofs, where they could sit and hold each other, basking in each other’s silent company.

He drifted off slowly, thoughts of a certain secret smile floating across his love struck dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking back to the Gryffindor common room was a silent affair for Ron and Hermione, holding hands and awkwardly walking side by side. She knew Ron kept chancing small glances at her, but she tried to ignore it as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was dozing. Prodding her awake, they gave the password, Tiddly om- pom pom again, and slipped through the hole without a word to each other. When they reached the portrait hole, Ron sat down on the couch tensely, waiting for Hermione to join him. She looked apologetically at him and announced that she was tired, and that maybe she would go to bed.

“Tired, again? Or are you just avoiding me?”

Hermione turned around from walking slowly to the girls dorms stairs, and gave Ron a fake questioning look.

He knew. He had picked up on her and Harry’s behaviour today and wanted answers. Quite rightly so, Hermione couldn’t blame him, but she was dreading being the one to give them to him.

“What do you mean?” She edged closer to the couch, tentatively, still looking at Ron. His eyes were full of hurt, which made her heart pang. She didn’t love him, but he was still her best friend, still hers and Harry’s best friend. She hated to do this to him.

“You know what I mean. Every time you come back from the Hospital wing, you go immediately to bed. You haven’t stayed up with me since the day I asked you out. You won’t let me kiss you most of the time, you won’t let me touch you… yet you let Harry… why is that?”

She dropped her gaze to the floor, and walked softly around the scarlet velvet couch to sit beside Ron, whose face was passive. Gazing at her hands, she began to mumble softly, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She had to tell him, she couldn’t do this to him. If she told him now she could be with Harry, he loved her. She knew he would stand by her, he said so himself.

“I’m sorry, Ron, I’m so sorry… it wasn’t meant to happen, it wasn’t…” she started, glancing up at his face, her beautiful deep brown eyes beginning to rain tears. “We never wanted to hurt you, you have to remember that…”

Hearing the way she was talking, Ron backed away. He looked away from her with a pale face and a shocked expression. Emitting a soft sob, she tried to grab his hands softly, but he pulled them from her grasp and looked at her with disgust written on his face.

“Didn’t mean to hurt me? What do you mean by that exactly, Hermione?”

She covered her eyes with her soft hands, and started to choke on her words through the tears, her eyes drowning in guilt and remorse.

“He… came to me in the middle of the night… he was so afraid… he told me… what they did to him. They treated him like a slave, Ron… they beat him and took his money and food…”

Ron’s face softened a little with this revelation, and he sat back in his chair, still with the shocked expression. With a movement that made Hermione jump he turned to her, his eyes questioning and angry.

“So what did you do?”

“I… I hugged him for a while… he cried… and then…”

She turned away from him to stare tearfully into the flames of the Gryffindor fire, wishing for some of that Gryffindor bravery now. Ron began to look disgusted again as he seized her shoulders and made her face him.

“Then what!”

She let out a loud sob and buried her face in her hands once again. She wished she had Harry here with her; everything would be ten times easier.

“I kissed him okay! I kissed him! I love him, Ron! And he loves me! I can’t help it!”

She broke away from and stood, her tears streaming fully down her cheeks, as she ran to the portrait hole desperately. Turning around to look ruefully at Ron, she shouted through her tears.

“Don’t blame Harry for this! It’s my fault! I kissed him! We love each other, Ron! I’m sorry!”

With that, she burst from the common room with an indignant shout from the Fat Lady, and blindly made her way through the corridors of Hogwarts, her tears blurring her vision and her sobs muffled as she tried to pull herself together. Running blindly through the long stone corridors, her heart pounded in her ears. She felt totally awful; she couldn’t believe she had just said that to Ron. She was sure she must have sounded horrible.

She ran to the only place, the only person who she could find solace in. Harry.

Bursting in through the large white door of the Hospital Wing, she ran flat out down the long ward, thinking it must be a miracle that Madam Pomfrey hadn’t heard her yet by the amount of banging she was making. She reached Harry’s curtains and flung them desperately open, to find Harry sitting up slowly, his eyes sleepy, confused and spectacle-less. She gave one sad look into those beautiful green eyes before flinging herself weakly onto his chest and sobbing hard. His strong comforting arms circled around her as she sobbed into his bare chest, and she felt him plant a small kiss in her hair. Sniffing sadly, she managed to mumble into his shirt.

“I told him, Harry. I’ve told him.”

She felt Harry’s arm tense up, and he brought a soft, weather-beaten finger underneath her wet and pale chin. She weakly let her head be lifted up so she was looking into Harry’s eyes, and she immediately felt calmer than a second ago. Smiling reassuringly, Harry brought his face to hers, and they shared a tender, beautiful kiss.

Breaking away slightly, she smiled as Harry picked up his wand from his bedside table with some difficulty due to the fact that Hermione had her full weight on him. Smiling cheekily back, he softly muttered a silencing charm on the curtains, as she had done the night when he came to her room. When finished, he immediately dropped his wand to the floor, where it fell with a loud clatter. When there was no response from Madam Pomfrey, Hermione giggled and threw her arms around him, as he mischievously pulled the covers under them both.

That night they bonded with undying love and loyalty to each other, completely forgetting about Ron, about all the other problems they had in the world. It was sheer bliss, not having to sneak around, and being able to give themselves wholly to each other in every respect. It wasn’t until hours later, when they were lying together under the white linen sheets that they remembered about what they were to face.

“What are we going to do, Harry? Do you think Ron will ever talk to us again?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and sighed deeply.

“I don’t know. I hope he can forgive us for this… but I can’t help it, Hermione… I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He grinned, and pulled her head softly onto his chest, where he laid a hand on her fluffy chestnut hair. She smiled contentedly, and smiled up at him.

“And even if Ron never forgives us, Harry…” She breathed. “I can live with it… as long as I don’t have to live without you…”

Harry looked down at her, his face in a sort of sad smile.

“You’ll never be without me… not as long as I live, you hear? Not even Ron can change that.”

9. OUt of the Hospital Wing at Last...

The next morning, Harry awoke to an dull sort of ache in most of his joints. He blinked roughly, and tried to move, but couldn't due to the heavy weight of Hermione laying contentedly on his chest. Chuckling quietly to himself, he flopped his head back onto the pillow. He wouldn't wake her yet.

He sighed, content and cosy and brought a pale hand up to Hermione's long brown and bushy locks, weaving a hand through the silky strands, and smiling to himself. So, he'd finally done it. He'd never done anything like that with anyone, god knew loads of girls had tried to get him to, and he knew Hermione hadn't either. He always wanted to save himself for someone who he felt a lot for, never imagining that he would find the one he loved. He gazed down at Hermione, her face was basking in the dusky morning light, and the permanent happy smile fixed on his face grew wider. There was no one else who he'd have preferred to do it with his first time... Hermione was his best friend, and the girl he loved.

Bringing an arm around to place on her soft bare forearm, he marvelled at how velvety and smooth her skin felt, yet how it emitted invisible sparks everytime he touched her. He looked down, unable to keep his hungry gaze from her face any longer. She'd have to wake up soon, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't like the idea of them both laying here, in Harry's bed, clothes strewn all over the tiled floor. Although, Harry thought with some amusement, She might just think I'm now well enough to get out of here...

He chuckled softly, which gained a small stir from Hermione. He gave her a warm, pure and genuine smile, which she returned, her face illuminating the dull, white-walled wing dramatically. She looked around dazedly, her pretty brown eyes taking in the pyjamas and other clothes thrown onto the floor, and she giggled, softly. The sound made Harry smile, it was beautiful. He inwardly laughed at himself... he was becoming a right old sappy git.

"Good Morning, Beautiful..."

She smiled at him and leaned upwards to plant a small, chaste kiss on his lips. Speaking softly and slowly into his mouth, she replied;

"It certainly is..."

They shared a soft laugh, and continued to kiss each other softly around the edges of their mouths and lips. The kisses were no longer shy, as their first few had been last night. They had both been shy about what they were going to do last night, but neither of them had any doubt in their minds... at least he thought they didn't.

"I take it you don't regret last night then?” He asked tentatively, a serious look spreading across his face.

She giggled softly, and Harry's grin returned as she gave him his answer in a hot and passionate kiss.

Totally wrapped up in each other, they were completely oblivious to the stomping sounds of heavy feet racing down the wing, the sound echoing off the cavernous walls and ceiling. Suddenly, their curtains were thrown back, and they whipped their heads around in shock, their wide eyes falling on an extremely disgruntled and angry Ron. He was breathing very heavily like a wounded rhino, his ears turning a deep shade of crimson that Uncle Vernon would have been proud of. His eyes contained a sort of manic anger that took Harry and Hermione back, as they tried to cover themselves up with the thin material of the Hospital bed clothes.

"I knew it! I knew you'd go running to him! What happened? Got bored with me, so you go and spread your legs for him instead?"

"Oi, now hang on a minute, Ron," Harry started, his temper rising so quickly it was like molten lava. "Don't you dare say that about Hermione, It wasn't like that at all..."

"Oh yeah? You didn't hear what she said to me last night, did you? Didn’t' t you tell him, Hermione? Or were you too busy ripping your clothes off to bother?"

Hermione emitted a soft sob from Harry's chest, she was clinging tightly to him under the white sheets, clearly truly upset. The sight of this made Harry's blood boil even further.

"Shut up, Ron! She's sorry, we both are... but we didn't plan this!"

Ron looked at the two of them sceptically, his eyes showing a hatred that Harry had never seen there before.

"I don't believe you."

"What?!"

Ron grimaced at the two of them, sneering down his long freckly nose at them like looking at a dog that had rolled in smelly mud.

"I said, don't believe you. I don't believe that you two are in love... you just want to have everything, Potter! You take everything away from me! You get fame, money, Quidditch! And now you have the girl I loved! And you!"

He pointed an accusing finger at Hermione, who whimpered like he was brandishing a sword at her and hugged Harry closer.

"You didn't even like me in the first place! So why say so? Malfoy's right... You're nothing but a bushy haired, ugly bookworm MUDBLOOD!"

At this Hermione let out a loud sob, causing Harry to grab his wand from the bedside table. He tuned to Ron and best he could, his anger causing him to act slightly clumsily, and pointed his wand at Ron. For once, he really wanted to hurt Ron. Those things he said about Hermione, those things were uncalled for, and they made his blood boil.

"I don't care if you insult me, Ron..." he said, his voice a deadly quiet. His eyes began to spark ever so slightly. "But don't you dare insult Hermione in front of me."

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of echoing footsteps across the ward made him jump and spin around. Madam Pomfrey.

He threw one last cold look at the pair of them before flinging himself out of the cubicle and marching off, leaving the two of them in a sticky situation indeed.

As Madam Pomfrey's footsteps drew nearer, Hermione immediately jumped out of bed, gathering up her stray clothes and slipping into them at great speed so that the Matron wouldn't see them. Harry quickly rummaged around under his bed for the invisibility cloak, he had brought it back up here after the last nightly excursion, and threw it over Hermione, who covered herself in it just in time for the Nurse to come bustling into the ward.

*

Hermione burst into the girls dormitories panting slightly and flushed a brilliant bright red, though for all anyone could see she may as well have been doing the can can, she still had the invisibility cloak on. There was no one in the dorm, it was quiet and empty, peaceful and Hermione was grateful. She didn't particularly need any prying questions from Lavender and Parvati about where she was last night right now. Pulling the silvery cloak of her, she plodded over to her bed and threw herself upon it, her body aching dully.

Last night was one of the best nights of her life. It was no understatement, there would definitely be no other night quite like that. Obviously, she hoped, well, wanted more than anything, was for it to happen again, but it would never be as beautiful and as brilliant as that.

She sighed gently, and wiped the stray tears from her face that she hadn't got a chance to get rid of in the hospital wing. She could not believe Ron had said such horrible things about her and Harry. She expected him to be angry, in fact she'd be very surprised if he wasn't, but she never would have expected that sort of snobbish, nasty behaviour from Ron. It just didn't seem right. Ron would never have said those things normally, he wasn't the type of person who would say such horrible and hurtful things. And to say that he agreed with Malfoy! Something wasn't right.

However, she put these thoughts aside for the time being, she didn't want to concentrate on Ron. However much he might have hurt her in that hospital wing, whatever he might have said about her, she didn't care. Sure it was horrible, and maybe it was the truth, maybe she was bookish, bushy haired and ugly, but as long as Harry didn't care, as long as he didn't believe she was a slut she could forget about Ron, she could put all that past her. She had Harry now, and that was all that mattered. He loved her, and she him.

Getting up, she made her way slowly into the girls bathrooms, her joints sore and stiff, and began to take a warm relaxing shower. By the time she was finished, her joints were back to normal, she was feeling refreshed and happy, and there was still 10 minutes of breakfast left. She left the girls dormitories happily, a smile fixed on her face, and as she left the common room, she began to whistle a happy tune, ever so softly.

As she entered the Great Hall for breakfast, she looked around for Ron, purely out of habit. She had grown used to sitting with him when Harry was in the Hospital Wing, they would chat about Harry and getting him to eat more and things like that, like friends. Realising what she was doing, she did a double take and shook her head. Then, with a deep breath, she made her way to the Gryffindor table.

After shaking off Lavender and Parvati and their overly prying noses, she sat down opposite Ginny and gave her a cheery 'hello'. Pulling a saucer of bacon towards her, she looked up at Ginny, who had not responded to her greeting. Instead of a 'hello' back, Ginny merely stuck her nose in the air, made a little 'humph' sound, then stood up and strode away. Hermione stared forlornly after her. Of course, she thought. She's Ron's sister, he's bound to have told her...

Staring moodily at her plate, she sat alone now, preferring not to go over to Parvati and Lavender. As she picked at her bacon, which was steadily growing colder, she heard friendly voices growing louder, shouts of laughter and welcome emanating from the top end of the table. Still not looking up, her heart jumped into her throat as she heard;

"Harry! Welcome back, Mate!"

She gave a squeal and whipped her head around so fast her neck cricked. Harry was walking down the Gryffindor table, a pure genuine, wide happy smile plastered all over his handsome face. He opened his arms with a cheeky grin, and she immediately jumped up, not caring that everyone was watching, not caring that Ron was a few metres away and ready with a nasty comment. She ran straight into his arms and wrapped her own around his neck, nearly knocking the wind out of him, but she didn't care. He didn't seem to either, as he laughed heartily and swung her around, his arms wrapping around her slender frame. He brought her back down to earth, in more than one respect, and they looked into each other's faces, pure smiles written all over their faces.

"Good Morning, Beautiful..."

She giggled loudly, and forgetting they had an audience, she kissed him, squarely on the lips.

10. Whispers and Wonderings

The news of Hermione’s more than friendly gesture of welcome towards Harry was the subject of a great many conversations that day. As Harry and Hermione walked hand in hand through the halls, tentative whispers followed them like a gust of wind. Some were happy for them both, they had always thought they would be more than platonic friends one day, but some others were a little less enthusiastic about the idea. Since Harry had disposed of his old, geeky, black rimmed glasses, he had earned himself quite a powerful following of fan girls, all completely besotted with the ‘Boy who Lived’. It was this group however, that started the most malicious rumours. One was that Rita Skeeter was right, and Hermione was brewing Love Potions, which is why Ron wasn’t talking to them anymore, because he found out. Another was that Hermione was doing the Imperius Curse on Harry.

They found that they didn’t care very much, as long as they could walk hand in hand lovingly down the corridors without anyone hurting them physically, they were fine. They were too besotted with each other to notice whispers and staring any way.

All through classes that day, Harry and Hermione sat next to each other in every class, holding hands under the table and smiling serenely at each other, unable to keep their minds on their work, for the thought of what happened between them both was enough to make them dizzy. Surprisingly, none of the teachers picked up on this lack of enthusiasm from them both, which was quite a surprise, since Hermione’s Dangerous enthusiasm to answer every question was famous throughout all of the staff at Hogwarts. But what surprised Harry the most was the attitude the teachers were taking when they did find out about the two of them. When somebody told Professor Flitwick, he gave a small squeak of excitement and toppled over his chair again; Professor McGonagall gave them a wide, warm smile which took the both of them aback, but the appreciated it the same; and as soon as Hagrid found out in their Care of Magical Creatures class that day, he enveloped them both in a rib-cracking hug, tears in his crinkly black beetle eyes, saying he’d knew it all along.

After lessons, they walked back through the corridors, hand in hand, towards the Gryffindor Common Room. This was the part of the day they had been dreading the most. If they went into the common room, Ron was more than likely to be there, and they didn’t want any confrontations in front of the rest of Gryffindor House in case things should be said that would embarrass the both of them.

Taking their time through the draughty corridors, they took the long route back to the common room, the one that took them right outside the Room of Requirement. As they passed it, Harry stopped, a cheeky grin lining his face. Hermione gave a laugh.

“Come on, Harry, it’s almost past curfew, I’m a prefect…”

Harry just continued to smile, ideas in his head much more interesting than curfew. She looked at him in mock sternness, but still keeping that pretty smile on her face. Giving up, she gave a quick, tentative look around the corridor, and followed Harry into the Room of Requirement.

*

They emerged breathless from the room some time later, wide happy, pure smiles on their flushed faces. Hermione turned to Harry and giggled softly, which he returned with a manly chuckle.

“Well, shall we go then, Prefect?”

She swatted him playfully on the arm and, taking his soft string manly hand in her own delicate one, they began to make their way slowly back to the common room, hoping no one had missed their appearance that evening.

As they turned a corner next to a long tapestry of Olga the Omnipotent however, they heard hushed voices coming from one of the empty classrooms. Giving Harry a confused look, Hermione crept forward, and stood next to the oaken door to the classroom, which was ajar.

“Don’t know why the hell you wanted to meet here, Malfoy. Come to think of it, why did you meet me at all?”

Harry recognised that voice, but didn’t believe it. Ron was in Gryffindor Tower, wasn’t he? And why was he meeting with Malfoy?

“I didn’t want to be overheard, you know what Potter and the Mudblood are like; probably off shagging somewhere, and they could hear us on the way back.”

There was silence as these words sunk in. Harry and Hermione looked at each other startled.

“Get to the point, Malfoy.”

“Well…” he began in his long, drawling voice. “I couldn’t help but notice Potter and Granger’s little display of affection this morning, disgusting and horrifying as it was. I was about to voice my own opinion on the matter when I saw you, sitting ten feet away from them, and I wondered. Wasn’t she your Girlfriend?”

Ron gave a barely inaudible grunt, which Malfoy took for his ‘yes’.

“So why, I asked myself, would his best friends cheat on him like that?”

Another grunt.

“Well, I supposed you would be angry, and considering that you were sitting ten feet away from them both, I was right, wasn’t I?”

Ron gave an impatient huffing noise with the breath. “Just get on with it. I want to get some sleep tonight.”

Malfoy laughed softly. “Oh, you will, Weasley, you will. Well, yes, the point. How would you like to get your revenge on Potter and Granger?”

At this there was silence. Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances and moved closer to the door to listen in harder.

“What do you mean, Malfoy?”

“Oh, come on Weasley, even you know should know what I’m talking about…”

Malfoy had obviously leaned forwards to whisper to Ron, and Harry and Hermione strained their ears to hear.

“Join us. Join Voldemort. Join the Death Eaters. You‘re old enough now, you‘re 16.”

Harry had to put his hand over Hermione’s mouth to mask the audible gasp he knew was coming. She looked up at him thankfully, but the fear was evident in her eyes. He held her hand tighter.

“Drop Dead, Malfoy.”

“Ah, I knew you’d see it like that. Well, if you want Potter and Granger to get away with what they did… Humiliating you… Cheating on you… taking away the girl you loved…”

“How do you know-”

“Oh, come one Weasley, I’m not that stupid.”

There was another long silence. It hung in the air like a lead weight, stifling them all. Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

“What does this… ‘revenge’ involve? I don’t want them dead.”

“Don’t you, Weasley? They’d be out of your hair forever. No more being overshadowed by Potter, or overlooked by Granger. They underestimate you, My friend. However, Lord Voldemort will not…”

Tears were coursing slowly down Hermione’s cheeks now, and she gripped Harry’s hand tighter. He closed his eyes, a feeling of dread and anticipation in his stomach.

“Lord Voldemort will be your friend, Weasley. There is no danger of ever being underestimated by him. He will know your power, and he will use it. You will be praised beyond your wildest dreams if you join him now…”

“Okay… Okay… Where do I sign up?”

11. Confused? So am I...

Authors Notes: Sorry it’s been so long since I last updated, but I’ve been hit with an extreme case of writers block. But now, hopefully, I’ll be able to carry on.

“Did you want to talk to him, Harry?”

“No.”

“Or we could send him a Letter?”

“No.”

“What about if we-”

“Hermione, I don’t want to talk to him, in any way.”

They were sitting in the Room of Requirement, cross-legged and facing each other, their faces cast in a shadow of worry. The lights coming from the ever-increasing candles were starting to flicker and die as they sat there for hours, just talking and sharing their worry.

Harry felt immensely angry. His whole wizarding life, he swore that he would never, ever join the Death Eaters, for they were the foulest, most evillest people on the earth. Never had he even thought about whether his friends would consider it, all of them being very outspoken towards Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Now though… his best friend… Ron… a Death Eater… he just couldn’t stand it.

He never thought he would hate his best friend. He was his first real friend; they had been through so much together, Ron was like the brother Harry never had. He remembered all the trips to the Burrow, all those summers that he and Ron would go up to the small paddock the Weasleys owned, their broomsticks slung over their shoulders, walking side by side as friends, as brothers. All those times that Ron had spoken about the Death Eaters, voicing Harry’s unceremonious thoughts of them being foul, and evil, and not even worthy of their spit. He thought of Mrs. Weasley, and wondered what she would say if she knew that one of her family, who all but bar Percy had so willingly joined the Anti-Voldemort movement had suddenly switched sides, all over a conflict over a girl. But this wasn’t just any girl, Harry immediately corrected himself. This was Hermione.

She was sitting not three feet away from him, tears silently coursing down her cheeks. This was another reason for Harry for feel hatred towards Ron. All the things he said to Hermione the other day, he could not forgive Ron so easily for. Moving slowly over to Hermione, who lifted her head as he approached, he swept his soft thumb slowly over her wet cheeks, taking the tears away. If only he could stop them from coming altogether…

“Please don’t cry, Hermione. He’s not worth your tears…”

She sniffed, her eyes red and puffy, and Harry could not help but think how well she could pull off still being beautiful with her face covered in tears and her eyes all swollen and bloodshot. She moved closer to him and settled herself on his lap, where he brought his arm around to comfort her. Burying her tear-stained face in his neck, she sniffled again.

“But he is, Harry. He’s our best friend, Death Eater or not…”

She was right. However what Harry wanted so much to do was deny that he had any feelings of friendship towards a Death Eater, when it came down to it, He was still Ron Weasley. Still a part of the Trio, and he always would be.

“You’re right, Hermione. You’re always right…”

She sniffed deeply. Turning her pretty face up to him, he could see that her eyelashes were laced with silver tears. Again, he brought a thumb up to brush them gently away. It caused his heart to pang everytime he felt the warm tears on her face.

“Harry… what are we going to do?”

He didn’t know what to say to her. He had no idea what to do. For the first time, she was looking to him for answers, but he had none to give to her. It made his heart bleed with guilt.

“I… Don’t know. I’m sorry, Hermione. But I don’t know…”

Maybe if he tried to reassure her? But how would that help? They could forget what they had seen and heard, and wait for Ron to let them know, then worry about it then? No… Harry thought. We have to do something now.

“Maybe…,” He began, his throat constricting slightly. He didn’t want to betray his best friend, but he knew, that it was for the best. “If I tell Dumbledore… what we’ve heard… He can tell us what to do…?”

She didn’t reply for a moment, her teary face turned to his in a look of surprise. Then with a resolute smile, she nodded determinedly. Harry smiled back, reassuringly, and they both shared that wonderful, pure, genuine smile that warmed them slightly from the inside.

“Yes… I think we should do that. Professor Dumbledore will know what to do…”

And they sealed it with a kiss.

*

Emerging from the room sometime later, they slowly made their way back to the common room. They weren’t late like the night before and they had managed to catch the last bit of daylight leaving the Hogwarts grounds. The light was dim and musky, and as they passed the windows, they caught the scent of fresh dusk, like Autumn leaves and Dewdrops.

They passed the spot where they had stood last night, listening intently to Ron’s fated conversation with Malfoy and as they were just passing the oaken door, it flung open with mild force and out charged a very agitated, very red looking Ron.

The scene froze. Hermione could feel the tension hang in the air like an iron curtain, and wished Ron would say something. He just stood there, and looked blankly at them both, his right hand clamped violently over his left arm. His blank look finally changed to that of anger and hate as he saw their interlocked hands, and he immediately stuck his long nose in the air.

Hermione felt Harry move violently beside her and held his hand tighter. Looking tentatively up at his face, she could see the bottle green eyes behind the steel rimmed glasses sparking and shooting daggers at Ron. He looked ready to charge at Ron at any moment.

The silence between the three of them was unnerving. No one spoke as Ron glared at the two of them, his eyes filled with a mixed emotion, Anger and Hate were palpable, turning his eyes into deep pits of disgust. But lurking behind the Hate and the bitterness, something stirred. Something familiar about the sapphire blue eyes that reminded her forcibly of the Ron she once knew.

Suddenly, he sniffed arrogantly and pushed past the two of them with malice, his eyes turned away from their faces and his freckled face darkened. Harry made an angry move after him, but Hermione held him back.

“Leave it, Harry… I think he’s confused enough as it is…”

He gave her a questioning look, but she merely smiled, a pure, genuine one, but with a meagre effort.

“He’s confused, Harry… I saw it. In his eyes. He still loves us - not in that way obviously - but he does still love us, and I don’t think a good Death Eater is meant to love his enemies.”

Harry gave a small, exhausted sigh and looked jadedly towards Ron’s retreating back. The look in his eyes told Hermione that the feeling was mutual for Harry. She knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive Ron as easily as she could, but she had a feeling that everything would work out well in the end.

Authors Notes: Sorry this is short and all, but it seemed like a good place to leave it, and My writers block is getting bad. But hopefully, now that I’ve got this chapter out of the way, I can get on with the story! J

12. Just a Leetle Note ;)

Author’s note: I know a lot of people wanted me to carry on with this story, and Carry on I shall. I’mma make a real effort to continue this story, and conquer writers block. Any constructive idea’s on how to continue this story would be great. :P

Thankies

~#Epona

13. Ah, so that's what's going on...

Authors Notes: Ok… Attempt number one to break the damn writers block. If this chapter turns out horrible… I blame the government.

Disclaimer: You know the drill… I own nothing, I get minimal amounts of money, none of said money comes from this, it comes from turning up to college.

They stood beside the large stone gargoyle with ashen looks on their faces, hand in hand. Harry felt as if he was betraying someone, divulging information about Ron which could get him into a lot of trouble. He had to remind himself, however, that Ron was already in big trouble, and they were doing this for his own good.

They had tried several times to guess the password to Professor Dumbledore’s office, and after their fruitless efforts, they managed to deduce the right muggle sweet (Toffee Bonbon). Now, here they were, standing weakly aside the long winding staircase that led to Dumbledore’s Office, the Gargoyle having jumped aside and now was crouching moodily with it’s arms crossed across it’s grey chest, waiting for them to move.

Harry glanced across at Hermione weakly, throwing her a searching look. He really didn’t want to go through with this, she knew, he had confided his fears in her the previous night, but she had convinced him that they were acting for the best. It was with this thought in mind, and the strength that Hermione gave him with every reassuring smile, every calming glance, that drove him to be here.

“Come on, Harry… You can do this. I’m right here with you.”

The effect of these simple words upon Harry was ridiculously incredible. Such a wave of relief washed over him at that moment, so much so that he was almost embarrassed of himself. It was this that encouraged him to smile resolutely back at Hermione and take the first step onto the long winding staircase.

As they reached the large oak door of Dumbledore’s office, Harry knocked feebly on it, and almost immediately there was a reply from Dumbledore, who, as per usual, knew exactly who it was. With a gulp and a squeeze of Hermione’s hand, Harry tentatively entered the office.

“Harry… Miss Granger… please, come in. Sit down.”

The calming voice of his Headmaster calmed Harry slightly, despite last year’s deliberate rupture of their relationship. He allowed Hermione to lead him over to the two chairs that sat opposite Dumbledore, and quickly sat down. Staring at Harry through his half-moon glasses, with the penetratingly blue eyes that Harry knew so well, Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow that almost shocked Harry; he expected Dumbledore to already know that they were there.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Harry? Hermione?”

Harry gulped. Taking a deep breath, he felt Hermione’s soft hand grasp his, and smiling reassuredly at her, began to tell Dumbledore everything.

*

Hermione sat resolutely next to Harry as he explained the events of the last couple of months. She felt terrible for Harry, she knew that he hated to drop his best friend in trouble, but there was no other option. They had to do something about Ron. He was dragging himself deeper and deeper into trouble, and if they didn’t do something about it, it could prove fatal for not just himself, but for his family, the Order, and for Harry.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn’t notice Dumbledore raise a hand to Harry, interrupting his story with a calm sigh. However, she did notice when Harry squeezed her hand, and she looked up at the two, confused.

“I know, Harry. I’ve already heard the entire story from Mr. Weasley. However, I won’t pretend that it wasn’t enlightening to hear both sides of the argument…”

Harry shot a look at Hermione that totally mirrored the way she was feeling. Ron went to Dumbledore?

To her surprise, Dumbledore let out a light chuckle and leaned back in his seat, surveying the two of them with a light-heated expression, one that Hermione hardly deemed appropriate for the situation. She cast a confused expression at Dumbledore, but either he didn’t notice it, or he decided to ignore it.

“Yes, I have already had Mr. Weasley come to me about this matter, though I must say he was not quite as calm about it as you are. In fact, he was quite worried.”

“What do you mean, Professor?” inquired Harry, and Hermione could tell he was just as confused as she was. “What has Ron told you?”

“What he has told me, Harry, he has told me in confidence, and I’m afraid I cannot repeat a lot of the things he said. However, I will tell you exactly what is happening, as I’m sure you will appreciate knowing the truth.”

Hermione watched as Dumbledore rose wearily out of his large, squishy armchair and sauntered over to Fawkes’ perch, where the magnificent bird was currently in it’s ‘about-to-burst-into-flames’ stage. I|t looked old and decrepit, and when Dumbledore laid a gentle hand upon it’s tatty scarlet and gold plumage, it responded with a weak ‘tweeet’, and closed it’s weary looking eyes. Somewhat shocked by this, Hermione looked over to Harry to decipher his reaction, but apparently he had seen this before, as it prompted no reaction from him. He was gazing avidly at the headmaster, and seeing the worry and fear evident in his eyes, Hermione turned to do the same.

Dumbledore continued to stroke the top of the mangy old bird’s head, as he sighed and cast his dazzling blue eyes downward.

“I’m afraid, as you may or may not know, that Ronald Weasley, has indeed become a Death Eater.”

She felt, rather than heard Harry give out a troubled sigh, and squeezed his hand tighter. He returned the gesture, but not once did he avert his gaze from the headmaster. Seeing Harry’s reaction to this, Dumbledore continued.

“Although, you must not blame yourselves for Ron’s decision to become a Death Eater, as I know you are more than likely to do,” At this statement, he peered over at Harry with a severe look, and Harry finally looked away from him, only to stare at his feet. “Ron’s decision to become a Death Eater was not, as you might think, done as an act of contempt against your relationship with each other… which, by the way, I would like to congratulate you both on,” He smiled warmly at the two of them, and Hermione looked over at Harry with a blush, who did the same. “As much as Ron was upset about the two of you, he knew, deep down, that there was nothing he could do. However, he did see this as ample opportunity to do something for the two of you that required not only extreme selflessness, but incredible bravery too. He became a Death Eater, to turn Spy for our side.”

The bottom felt like it had fallen out of Hermione’s stomach, and looking across at Harry, she could tell that he felt at least twice as worse as she did. All this time, they had assumed that Ron had swapped sides, because he was jealous of the two of them, of their relationship. However, he was merely helping them, doing something so brave and selfless that it seemed like they had betrayed him even more.

“Sir… Does he… does he still want to talk to us?”

Hermione looked up as Harry directed the question at his headmaster, a pleading look in his weary green eyes. Dumbledore gave him a look of pity and something Hermione could not quite place. She knew Dumbledore thought of Harry as more than just a pupil, and cared more about his well-being that would normally be permitted between pupil and teacher, and the look that Dumbledore gave Harry now, reminded Hermione of the looks that her family gave her, her father, her mother, her grandparents.

“That, Harry, is something you will have to sort out between the three of you. However, please take note that if he is seen talking to you, by anyone who may be in league with the Death Eaters, the consequences may be lethal.”

*

As they entered the Gryffindor common room half an hour later, they immediately headed for the large scarlet couch near the fire, and flopped down unceremoniously upon it, emotionally and physically drained. Feeling like he was the worst person in the world, Harry was relieved and heartened when Hermione wrapped a comforting arm around him, holding him tightly and tangling her fingers in his messy black hair.

“You alright?”

He nodded, feeling a little better now that he was sitting here with Hermione, in front of the fire. It felt as though the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace were washing over him like a bath, rinsing away his worries for a while. Having Hermione hugging him so tightly and contentedly just made him melt.

“Yeah. I am now.”

She smiled and pressed her lips delicately to his own. It was only a chaste kiss, a mere touching of lips, but to them, it couldn’t have been more meaningful if one of them had proposed. The kiss progressed, and became more pronounced, as Hermione moved slowly over him, cupping his cheek softly as he wrapped his arm around the small of her back. Leaning backwards, he had to remind himself that they were both in the middle of the common room to stop himself from carrying this little embrace on further. However, Hermione had other ideas. Taking his hand, she slowly and sensually broke the kiss, and sat up, pulling him gently upwards with one hand laid flirtingly across his chest, rubbing circles across it. Leading him across the common room, they ignored the stares they were attracting as they gazed dreamily into each other’s eyes, heading for the boys dormitory, or to be more exact, Harry’s bed.