Amare

Epona

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 17/06/2004
Last Updated: 30/06/2004
Status: completed

Harry and Hermione share a series of letters to each other, which deal with Harry's guilt, grief, loss and a new found feeling... *Pure Fluff* >.

Chapters

1. The letter that started it all

2. The letter that confused it all

3. The letter that gave him hope.

4. The letter that changed their lives

5. The Letter L

6. The Date.

1. The letter that started it all

Author’s Notes:

Yes, I know, I’m a very bad person. I know I’m supposed to be finishing my other fic: Secret Smile, but I’ve sort of come to a standstill with that one. I know exactly what to write, the plot and everything, but I don’t know How to write it. Oh well, I’m not giving up on it, I’m just… putting it off for a while.

Anyways, I needed a break from writing that one, so here’s one that’s been in my head for ages. I think I read a fic with Harry and Hermione and Love Letters or something, that wasn’t finished, and I just thought that it would be nice to do one myself.

Anyway, let me know what you think and constructive criticism is great. Thankies ^_^

~#Epona#~

* * * *

Harry lay forlornly across his bedspread, his brilliantly bottle green eyes scanning the all too familiar ceiling for the ninth time that day, his breath coming in slow sad shots. His raven hair was messy and unkempt and his appearance was that of someone who did not take pride in their exterior. His manifestation did not endear him to his relatives, far from it. Instead, they chose to let him wallow, drowning in his own private sea of self-pity and mourning. His thoughts were not completely with him, they were locked, far away in a place deep in the treacherous depths of wizard London.

His last remaining trace of any loving family had vanished that day amidst a chaos of spells and curses. The way his body just delicately curved into that graceful arc, and glided almost beautifully, matching the delicacy and elegance of a ballet dancer, was imprinted on Harry’s eyes like a tattoo. In that moment, although he did not believe it at first, he had lost the last trace of a long lost father he had ever known. But this was not the sole basis of Harry’s culpability.

When it came down to it, he had been a fool. He was stupid to ever believe that there was any reason for him to go to London that day. He had led his friends to a potentially lethal situation, to what cost? A fruitless effort to save his godfather and injuries that ‘caused quite enough damage to be going on with’.

This fresh reminder of the damage he had caused to his best friend caused his insides to burn with hot sickening guilt again, and sighing deeply, he mustered what energy he had to turn onto his side to face his window, and was greeted with the snowy white, flustered display of his owl, clearly miffed at having to wait to unload her heavy cargo.

As she fluttered down onto his bed she was immediately joined by two other owls, one he recognised as Pig, Ron’s slightly hyperactive little owl, and the other as a Hogwarts Owl. The latter left as soon as it delivered his load, ruffling his feather professionally and soaring straight back out of the window, whereas Pig dropped a large parcel unceremoniously onto the bed and proceeded to flutter annoyingly around Hedwig, who clicked her beak in an indignant manner.

Turning his attention to his post, he spotted that he had four envelopes and three big packages. Picking up the first, it was from Hagrid.

Hello Harry,

Just thought I’d drop you a line for your birthday, hope you’re well and all, and I wanted you to get your present. Also Harry --

There was a lot of scribbling out here, and Harry realised with a slight pang, that Hagrid didn’t know what to say to him. He vaguely wondered if all the other letters were written like this, with crossings out and awkward sentences.

-- I know you must be feeling down right now, but I want you to know you can talk to me. I know I’m not exactly the best at these situations, but god knows you’ve helped me enough. Harry, Sirius was a good man --

Harry could not read on. He did not want to deal with using Sirius’ name in the past tense quite yet. Skimming down the letter, he reached the bottom.

-- Well, like I said Harry, hope you’re well. I’ll see you on September 1st and hey, buck up.

Cheers,

Hagrid

Harry put the letter aside and turned to his present. Opening it, he found a large sticky birthday cake, similar to the one he had received on his eleventh birthday, the day he discovered he was a wizard. The memory of the antics on that happy morning brought a small foreign grin to his face. The feeling was strange. It was like he’d forgotten was it was to smile.

Moving onto the next letter, he picked up an untidy envelope with Ron’s messy scrawl scribbled all over it. With some contempt, he ripped it open and began to read.

Hiya Harry!

How are you, mate? Well, I suppose that’s a bit of a stupid question. Well, Anyways, I thought I’d drop you a line on your birthday, and I tried to put a bit of thought into your present, so as to cheer you up a bit. Yeah, that’s right, Me. Ron. Thoughtful. I can be thoughtful sometimes you know.

Harry gave out a unexpected chuckle at that, the feeling felt good. It was just like his best friend to say something sarcastic or funny to make him laugh. He glanced around at the package that Pig had dropped on his bed, as if expecting it to do something strange or out of the ordinary. When it stayed motionless and immobile, he turned back to Ron’s untidy squiggle.

You know, Harry, I was thinking. (No jokes there.) You really shouldn’t stay all to yourself all summer, Harry, I mean, I know you’re missing Sirius and all, but think about it. He was a fun-loving guy, he wouldn’t have wanted you to --

There is was again, the all-too-familiar past tense. Once again, Harry decided to skim read down the parchment, in case there was anything else Ron has wanted to tell him, that didn’t involve using Sirius’s name like that.

Half-heartedly scanning the parchment, his deep green eyes were suddenly drawn to a particularly messy scribble near the end. Harry read it curiously.

Also, Harry, you should know this, since she’s probably going to tell you anyways, she tells you everything. I sort of wrote to Hermione a couple of days ago, and asked her out. I don’t know whether you noticed or not, but lately, I’ve sort of developed some feelings for her. I hope this won’t affect our friendship or anything, and I don’t know how you feel about Hermione, but I hope by telling you it was the right thing to do.

Harry was surprisingly shocked by this unforeseen confession. He had happily led himself to believe that Ron wouldn’t realise the signs that he’d been giving off for the past two or so years as symbolic of his growing feelings for Hermione. Oh, Harry had noticed it, he just didn’t want anything to come of it…

The truth was, he depended too much on Hermione. He knew it was wrong to rely on her so, but he couldn’t help it. He always knew that she would undoubtedly do her best for him, and he had become used to having that solidarity and loyalty next to him in whatever dire situation was facing them, even if she did have to force some sense into him sometimes. He had never had that before, that feeling of someone always being there to talk to, someone to help him with more than homework. The reason why Harry had hoped Ron would keep his feelings to himself, was because Harry didn’t want to lose Hermione, which would certainly happen if she went out with Ron. He read on reluctantly.

The thing is though, she hasn’t answered me yet. I know it was only a couple of days ago I sent it, and I had to use Errol, since I used Pig to send your present, but even Errol can make that journey in a couple of days. I’m wondering whether it’s because she’s wondering how to say no or not…

There shone a tiny ray of hope in Harry’s heart, and for a minute he felt relieved, than immediately disgusted with himself.

Here was Ron, his best friend, who really liked his other best friend, and he, Harry, didn’t want them to get together for want of having Hermione all to himself. He felt horrible, and extremely guilty. He hadn’t said that he had felt anything for Hermione, which, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure, but even if he did, it was still too late. Ron had gotten there first, and was going to take Hermione away from him, and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

With a heavy heart, he continued on with Ron’s letter, only half reading it, half staring into space, his depression growing with every letter.

Well, I’m sure she’ll owl me back soon, won’t she? I mean, it’s not like Hermione to just leave someone hanging like this, is it? Oh well, wish me luck!

Anyways, Mum said that Dumbledore has said you can come here now if you want to. Send Pig back with your answer, and we’ll come and pick you up.

See ya soon!

Ron.

Harry already knew what his answer was, and it didn’t involve leaving his safe, small room, where he could lie and contemplate without any interruption of Ron and his angsty thoughts of whether Hermione would answer him positively or not. Sighing heavily, he reached for the third letter, the one bearing the Hogwarts seal, running a hand distractedly through his jet-black hair. Opening it and reading through it, he found that he had passed a lot of his OWLs with quite good marks. He had gained 9 OWLs, and even managed to scrape an ‘Acceptable’ in Potions, which surprised Harry. He figured that after Professor McGonagall’s furious outburst to Umbridge in his careers advice meeting last year that she would help Harry become an Auror, she might have stepped in somewhere to avoid Snape from failing Harry completely. Although this meant another year or so with Snape, Harry was pleased. He was well on his way to becoming an Auror.

His mood lifted slightly he turned to the last letter and recognised the neat handwriting on the envelope immediately. Hermione.

With instinctive speed he tore open the envelope and read.

Hi Harry,

How are things? Hope the Dursleys aren’t giving you too hard a time. They shouldn’t be, after Moody and Lupin’s little display last month, should they? Anyway, straight to the point…

I know you’ve probably heard things like this from everybody, Harry, and I know you probably won’t want to hear it, but You know you can talk to me, right? I trust you, and I hope you trust me too. Harry, you can’t keep things bottled up. If I know you, which I think I do pretty well by now, you’re sitting at home everyday lying on your bed and doing nothing but thinking. You shouldn’t think too much, Harry, I know it may seem a but hypocritical coming from me, Hermione Granger the Bookworm, but it’s true. If you think too much about it, it makes you blame yourself, and what happened in that place was definitely not your fault, Harry.

I know you’ve probably heard all this before as well, but I want to say it. I hope you’ll listen instead of just ignoring this, I’d hate to think that I’ve wasted my time here. Sirius wouldn’t have wanted you to keep yourself to yourself like this, Harry --

There it was again, but for some reason, Harry wanted to read on. Maybe it was her plea that he actually pay some heed to her letter that made him do it, or the fact that she seemed to read his mind and she could inadvertently know what he was doing. It was amazing how much she knew about him, and he instantly marvelled at her knowledge of him.

--Sirius wouldn’t have wanted you to not talk to anybody and stay shut up in your room. I’m sure someone must have told you this already, but I know, and I know you know that Sirius wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t come to help you on that day. He died doing what he wanted to do, and that was fulfilling his duty to you as your godfather. I know that this has left you with next to no family left, apart from your auntie of course, but please don’t think that Sirius died for no reason. He died to save you, to protect you. And please don’t think that it’s your fault. I know if I’d seen him in that dream, I’d have probably felt the same, Harry. So please don’t blame yourself, okay?

These few sentences lifted Harry’s spirits gently. She sounded genuinely worried about him, and the feeling that she was still there, still unwaveringly pledging her concern and worry and loyalty to him was immensely comforting.

Well, I hope you’ve listened to me, and paid attention, Harry. Anyways… to get off the subject, I have something else to tell you.

‘Here it is,’ thought Harry. ‘She’s going to tell me she’s said Yes to Ron. Well, may as well get it over with.’

See, Harry, the thing is, Ron wrote to me a few days ago. And he sort of asked me out. I mean, it was really sweet of him, I’ve never really been one to draw boys attention and all --

Harry snorted indignantly.

-- but it was really nice when I got this letter telling me how he’d liked me for a while. The only problem is, I don’t like him back…

Harry’s heart inflated to ten times it’s normal size, and he was on the verge of letting out an almighty ‘whoop’, when he remembered that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were only a room away, sleeping.

With his spirits soaring, he read on.

I mean, I like him, but only as a friend, if you get what I mean. I don’t really think we’d work, what with all the arguing we do. But anyway, I don’t really know how to tell him ‘no’. I don’t want to upset him, but I can’t keep ignoring it, it’s not going to exactly go away, is it? And to be perfectly honest, I’ve already got my eye on someone… but let’s not talk about that.

Well, that’s all the news I’ve got to say. Just remember, Harry, cheer up and don’t think too much. Hope to see you soon, and if you’ve got any tips to help me with Ron, they would be greatly appreciated!

Love from,

Hermione x

Harry’s spirits felt like they would burst out of him in excitement. Immediately, he swung himself unceremoniously over his bed, to reach the loose floorboard under his bed, where he kept all of his secret things like birthday cakes, letters and photos. Grabbing a long piece of parchment, he shifted around on his bed so he was lying along it, his feet somewhere up among his pillows, and started to write a reply to Hermione.

Hiya Hermione,

Things aren’t too bad here at the moment, the Dursleys are treating me fine. Then again, they aren’t exactly talking to me, so I suppose that counts as fine as well. I really think Moody’s magical eye scared Uncle Vernon so much he had nightmares for a week.

I’m surprised at how much you know me, you know, Hermione. I’m not going to lie to you, I could never do that. I have been thinking a lot lately, and yes, I had managed to convince myself that it was my fault. I should have listened to you, Hermione. You tried so hard to tell me it was a trap, and me with my bigheadedness and stupid ‘saving people thing’ as you put it, I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to say that I’m sorry for that. I’m really truly sorry. I was an idiot to think I needed to go there. I lost Sirius and I nearly lost you, and for that I can’t tell you how much I hate myself right now. I know you tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault, and I believe you for the things you said. Yes, I did read it, and I was amazed at how you knew that I would just read through things like that. You know more about me than I know myself sometimes. But it still comes down to it that I should have listened to you, I should have tried harder to learn Occlumency, and I should never have lost my temper with you. Ever. All you do is try to help me, and all I do is throw it back in your face. I’m a selfish, bad-tempered git, and I only hope you can forgive me.

About the whole ‘Ron’ situation, I already heard about it. Ron told me when in his letter. He actually seemed pretty excited about it. He didn’t say he wrote all that though, which I don’t blame him, I don’t know how you got it into your head that no one finds you attractive. Anyway I don’t really know what to recommend, you know my track record with things like this isn’t exactly great. Maybe you could just tell him the truth? You’re better at feelings and stuff than I am. Maybe you could tell him that you like someone else, and it wouldn’t be fair on him if you went out with him while you still liked this other guy? I don’t know.

Well, I hope it all goes well. If Ron gets upset, then It really can’t be helped, don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s your other best friend, I’m sure he’ll understand. I promise not to think too much and everything okay? I’ve just got to find something to keep myself occupied with. Ron’s invited me over to stay, which I wasn’t going to go, but I think I should, to keep my mind off things. Hope to hear from you soon.

Love,

Harry

He looked back at Hermione’s neat scribble, and spotted on the bottom, a small ‘x’. A kiss. Turning back to his own, he wondered whether he should add his own little ‘x’ to the bottom of his own letter. Did only girls do that? Or did she do it because she wanted to? He decided to blow caution to the winds and ended the letter with a small ‘x’ of his own.

Rolling the parchment up, he quickly gave it to Hedwig, who had been standing on the windowsill, seemingly waiting for him to finish his letter with an impatient air to her posture. As soon as Harry had securely tied the parchment around her leg, she took off, her ghostly white form silhouetted against the midnight sky, to the size of a blackbird, then a robin, then at last, a tiny wren.

Harry speedily wrote replies to the other two, telling them both that he was fine, and there was no need to worry about him, he would see Hagrid in September and told Ron that he’d like to come and stay very much. As soon as all the post and Owls had vanished, Harry flopped down onto his bed, and immediately fell asleep, his face curled in a soft, catlike grin.

2. The letter that confused it all

Authors Note:

Thank you for the lovely reviews, for those who reviewed. Unfortunately, with me getting used to the new reply to review system, I tried to reply to some and ended up deleting them! But please don’t be discouraged from reviewing. I won’t play with the reviews thing again. J

Anyway, onward!

* * * *

At last Harry packed the last piece of parchment into his already full trunk and struggled to close it. Finally, he managed to get it tightly shut, and sank back onto his bed in exhaustion. Looking over to his clock he noticed that he only had about thirty more minutes until Ron arrived. With a sigh, he turned his flushed face up to the ceiling and closed his deep green eyes, running a pale hand under his glasses and over his tired eyes. He hadn’t really been sleeping well since he’d got home from Hogwarts, his night time thoughts were plagued with pictures of the events of that day, he dwelled on things that could have been different, and would have been, if it weren’t for him.

There came a sharp tapping sound that broke Harry’s train of thought contemptuously, and as he opened his eyes, the bright light of the sun burned tiny little dots into his eyes. Blinking from the sudden burst of light to his eyes he looked to the window. Hedwig was just outside the window, dancing about with a scroll of parchment in her beak, her opal white feathers fluttering gracefully in the cool summer breeze. Immediately he crossed the room and opened the window tentatively. He knew Hedwig had a temper when kept waiting.

Removing the parchment from her beak with a grateful stroke on her wing, Harry carried it over to his bed and flopped down on it, the old mattress pinging where he’d broken a few springs. Ignoring this, he opened the scroll and read Hermione’s neat handwriting.

Hiya Harry,

Thank you so much for your advice on Ron, I think that was a very tactful way of putting it. Thank you. I feel totally awful for doing it, but like you said, he’ll understand… right?

Anyways, in reply to your letter; Of course I know you! You think I’ve followed you and Ron around for 4 and a half years and picked up nothing? I’d like to think you know me too. I knew you’d blame yourself for what happened in London, you’re always taking blame for things that aren’t your fault, it’s the way you are. Maybe yes, you should have studied Occlumency, and yes it wasn’t very nice you having a go at us most of the year, but I know you had a lot on your mind. You seemed half out of it most of the time, and very stressed out. I know I would be too if half the population of the wizarding world thought I was a attention seeking nutter. But it wasn’t very nice you know, you having a go at us, I was quite upset when you did. I don’t like it when you’re angry with me. Unlike Ron, who has a go at me nearly every week, you hardly ever get angry with me, and when you do, it’s with good reason, and it upsets me.

So, what exactly did Ron tell you in his letter? Did he tell you that was going to ask me out? Because you know, I could have done with some warning… It was quite a shock. No matter what you two might say, I know very well I’m no Fleur Delacour or Cho Chang. I mean, you two have to say things like that, don’t you? You’re my best friends. You’re very sweet though, Harry, wrong, but sweet.

Well, I hope you have fun at Ron’s this week, I’m not going there until next week, my mum wants me to stay a while, plus I don’t really think I could be up to staying with Ron yet. I have the feeling that it might be a bit awkward. I’m glad you promised me that you wouldn’t think too much. I trust you enough to not break your promise.

Write back if you can, If not, then I’ll see you next week!

Love,

Hermione xx

‘Two kisses…’ thought Harry with a absent-minded smile.

Looking across to his clock, he saw that he now only had quarter of an hour until Ron was scheduled to come and pick him up. However, with Harry’s past experiences and knowledge of Ron and his family, it was more likely than not that they were going to be a little bit late. So he figured he would have time to reply to Hermione before he left.

Opening his very full trunk again, the lid sprang open with the mass of clothes and books that were piled into it. Digging deep down, he quickly found his quill and some ink, and a spare bit of parchment. He closed his trunk again with some difficulty, then sat next to it, out of breath from his efforts, with the parchment on his lap. Wiping the damp hair out of his eyes, he swiftly snatched up his quill and rapidly began to write.

Hi, Hermione,

I’m just about to go to Ron’s, but knowing him, he’ll more than likely be late, so I thought I’d reply to you now.

Anyways, I’d like to think I know you too, but I’m sure there’s a lot of things I don’t. I should really, seeing as though you’re my best friend and all. I’ll have to ask you sometime. I’d like to find out more about you.

And I’m really, really sorry if I upset you last year, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I don’t think I was in my right mind for most of the year, If I was I probably wouldn’t have shouted at you. I don’t like being angry with you either, and I can’t, not really, not for very long. It’s very hard to be angry at you, Hermione. You’re too logical, and too right all the time. You make sense, and it’s mostly me who doesn’t. Tell you what, If I ever have a go at you again, you have my permission to hit me, or slap me or whatever. Actually, no… don’t slap me… I saw what you did to Malfoy in third year, that really did look like it hurt. To be honest, I’m quite proud of you for that, I only wish I could have followed your example last year at that Quidditch match.

Okay… Ron’s letter. Well, he didn’t tell me until he’d actually asked you, so I couldn’t really give you any warning, but if I could have, I would. I know it must be kind of shocking to have your best friend just spring something like that on you. But believe me, Ron and I don’t say those things because we’re you’re best friend. I told you already, I can’t lie to you. And to be honest, I wouldn’t want you to be Cho. I’d prefer a happy best friend, not someone who cries all the time. I’m not good with crying girls, the last one kissed me… but believe me, Hermione, you are attractive, okay? Don’t put yourself down.

From downstairs, the sound of many voices shouting carried up to Harry’s room. He recognised the loudest as Uncle Vernon’s, yet he could hear Mr. Weasley’s friendly tone and Tonks’s cheery voice amidst all the screaming coming from Aunt Petunia. With a sigh, Harry turned to finish his letter.

Well, I’d better go, I hear screaming and shouting downstairs which means Ron’s probably here. Write back!

Love,

Harry

With a tentative look over to Hermione’s letter, he spotted with a small smile that she had added two little ‘x’ s to the end of her letter. Harry thought it only polite to do the same.

As soon as he added the last little ’x’, Ron burst unceremoniously into the room followed by the twins, both looking very well off with their new Dragon skin jackets and what looked like Leather Boots. They filled Harry’s room with a great deal of noise, greeting Harry raucously and walking over to slap him on the back in a friendly way. Harry grinned at them with a quiet ’Hello’ as George and Ron took positions on either side of his trunk. As he was about to fold up his letter however, Fred peered over his shoulder at it suspiciously, and let out a low whistle.

“Two kisses, eh, Harry? Who’s the lucky girl?”

Harry felt his face flush as he quickly rolled up the parchment, as to keep Hermione’s name well out of sight. He knew Ron would definitely not approve, and he couldn’t imagine the flagrant embarrassment if Fred and George found out he was writing to Hermione. Quickly, he crossed the room and tied the parchment to Hedwig’s leg, refusing to look at Ron.

“No one, just a friend, that’s all. There’s no lucky girl…”

“Uh huh,” said George, with a friendly wink at Harry. “And Percy does drugs on a Saturday.”

They all laughed heartily as they heaved Harry’s belonging’s downstairs. As Harry reached the Living Room, he got a strong feeling of déjà vu, as half the living room was blown away and the source of the wreckage seemed to be the fireplace. The pictures on the walls were tilted, ornaments were knocked over on shelves and everything was covered in dust, even the quaking Dursleys who seemed to have temporarily gone dumb. Harry thought it was quite strange for Uncle Vernon to stand back and watch their living room become a junk yard, until he saw Mad-Eye Moody standing directly opposite him, his arms folded in a very intimidating manner, his magical eye rolling around sinisterly. Uncle Vernon was in for a few more nightmares tonight.

* * * *

Hours later, when Harry had been welcomed by each member of the Order and the Weasley family (even a very red and pompous Percy) and they had all been gleefully subjected to Mrs. Weasley’s wonderful cooking, he and Ron traipsed wearily up to their room, their bellies full and their eyes heavy.

As Harry settled himself into the squishy four poster, he noticed Ron for the first time that night looking very off about something. His eyes seemed to stare fixedly at the floor, and Harry noticed that his ears had gone very red. Not a good Weasley sign.

“Ron, is there something wrong?”

It seemed Ron had been waiting for Harry to ask him this, as he looked up at Harry forlornly, then turned to his bedside table and picked up a long piece of parchment. Slowly, he handed it to Harry with a disdainful grunt.

“I got Hermione’s reply.”

Harry took the parchment and read the respective paragraph.

About that… you know, Ron, I don’t think it would work out between us. As much as it really hurts me to say this, because you’re my best friend, and I really want to say what will make you happy, I can’t. I love you to bits as my best friend, but nothing more. I’m sorry. It’s just that, I’m afraid I’m in love with someone else--

With this little bit of information, Harry’s stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt, for what reason, he didn’t know. So what if Hermione loved someone else, as long as she remained his best friend, she could love someone else, couldn’t she?

-- and I’m afraid that it wouldn’t be fair if I went out with you while I still love this person. It wouldn’t be fair on you or me. I hope you understand, I don’t want us to not be friends. Please forgive me, Ron.

Love

Hermione.

As Harry handed back the parchment, he noted, with a tiny jolt in the centre of his stomach, that she hadn’t added her ‘x’ to Ron’s letter. Was it only Harry’s letter she did that with?

He looked up at Ron sympathetically, and he felt a weighing guilt in the back of his head. He shouldn’t be pleased that he got a ‘x’ on the end of his letter and Ron didn’t. Ron was the one who told her how beautiful she really was, and how he really liked her. ‘Wait… beautiful?’ Harry did a double take.

“You know,” Ron’s voice stopped him from continuing his double take. “I think I know who it is she loves. If it is who I’m thinking of, it’ll be a real kick in the teeth, but…”

With that, he slid dejectedly into his Chudley Cannon bedspread and turned away from Harry, who could see the tips of his ears glowing crimson. Harry waited, wishing Ron would elaborate, but when Ron stayed silent, he gave up and slid back into his own sleeping bag, his heart heavier than it was when he got up that morning.

3. The letter that gave him hope.

In the next few days, Harry had no time to be depressed, and true to his ardent promise to Hermione, he didn’t think too much about the events of that day in London. In fact, he didn’t have much time to think about a lot of things. He spent the days following his arrival at Grimmauld Place either fervently cleaning, speaking to all the members of the Order that dropped by, and generally hanging around and playing Wizard’s Chess with the Weasleys.

He was actually enjoying his stay at Grimmauld Place to his surprise. As much as he thought he shouldn’t, he was. The Weasleys were being as kind to him as ever, and he appreciated their gentle support. Members of the Order were always smiling, always pleased to see him, which made a pleasant change from his life at the Dursleys. However, what Harry was most looking forward to was when Hermione arrived.

He had received her reply a few days earlier, yet he hadn’t had the time to write back to her. However, he was very eager to find the time to, he had some questions for her.

Hiya Harry,

Hope you had a safe journey to Grimmauld Place. Ron told me he was going to floo there, I hope it wasn’t as bad as the last time someone flooed to your house!

So, anyways…

You’d like to get to know me better, huh? You know, you’re the first. I’ve never really had anyone try to get to know me better, everyone thinks I’m just books and brains. But sure, I’d love to get to know you a little more too. Tell you what, why don’t we make a night of it? When I get there next week, We’ll make a whole night of it, and get to know each other more, sound good to you?

You know, you’re far too modest for your own good, Harry Potter. Instead of complementing other people and putting yourself down all the time, you should focus on what you’ve actually done. Of course you make sense, you’re just an impulsive person, which to be honest, I envy. You aren’t really afraid to show emotions like that, and I suppose I am. It makes you a great wizard, you know. Remember what I said to you in first year? There are more important things than Books and Cleverness… Friendship, bravery, and Love, Harry. You’re not afraid to show those things, and I wish I wasn’t. Sometimes I wonder why the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor…

As for the whole ‘Ron’ situation, yes, it was shocking. You know, I can’t tell you how much it makes me happy to hear you say those things, Harry, for once, it makes me feel so good about myself. Still, when I read it, I blushed so much, my mum thought there was something wrong! But seriously, Harry, thank you--

There was a lot of scribbling out here, and Harry’s curiosity had grown to immense proportions when he read it. Hermione usually knew exactly what to say, she wasn’t really the stuttering type. That was more his thing…

--You know, you’re not so bad yourself.

Harry’s spirits had soared through the creaky, mildewed roof. He was surprised Ron hadn’t noticed him bouncing around on the soles of his feet for the past two days, his face fixed in a permanent euphoric smile.

I’m glad you wouldn’t want me to be like Cho, I’m afraid that’s not really my style. Sure, I can understand how she feels sometimes, but when I cry, I like to think it’s for good reason, not just a reason to kiss you. But, like I said, I can understand her point sometimes.--

Harry was sure his spirits had flown somewhere up among the earths atmosphere by now.

Well, anyway, Harry, thanks again for the compliments. Your opinion means a lot to me. Reply if you can.

Lots of Love,

Hermione xxx

Harry almost had the whole letter memorized by the ninth time he had read it and was very surprised that none of the Weasleys had noticed his vacant dreamy smile everytime he relived it in his head. Everytime he thought of replying to her, his thoughts wandered.

It almost sounded like Hermione was asking him for a date, the way she suggested they spend more time together. Maybe it was just Harry’s wishful thinking running swiftly away with him. However, he was more than happy to accept. His desire to spend as much time as possible with Hermione was growing curiously, but instead of questioning it, Harry let the feeling grow within him. For some reason, instead of feeling guilty, he decided that it felt right, to want to spend time with Hermione.

Unfortunately, the feeling of guilt was not totally suppressed. Everytime he spotted Ron, he was left with a melancholy pang of guiltiness. Ron was not happy, Harry could tell. He spent the day moping around, his face like thunder and Harry could not help but feel sorry for him. He knew that Ron really liked Hermione, he had done for a while, even if Ron himself hadn’t noticed it straight away. Though something about this gloomy sulking was bugging Harry. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason why, but there was something about Ron’s sulking that seemed, in a way, resigned. It was like he half expected Hermione to turn him down, and he knew the reason why. The only real, solid indication Harry had to believe this was the night he had arrived, when Ron showed Harry Hermione’s reply. He mumbled something about thinking that he knew who she loves, but Harry was still waiting for him to elaborate.

In the end, he decided to ask Hermione herself, figuring that with their new found open-ness, it would be no problem for Hermione to tell him the truth. True, half of him was twisting up inside at the thought that Hermione didn’t like him that way, but he thought that he might as well be the good friend and ask her.

So after dinner that night, Harry rapidly retreated back to his and Ron’s small room to write Hermione’s reply. Setting out his things on the bedspread like he had done at the Dursleys, he laid out Hermione’s letter in front of him for reference. Smiling gently at Hermione’s choice of words in her letter, he dipped his pen in his dark blue ink and began to write.

Hi Hermione,

I did have a good journey, well, as good as can be expected. I hate travelling by floo, always have. I always seem to find a new way to break my glasses. Still, it was worth travelling by floo to see Uncle Vernon’s face when he saw Mad-Eye again. Last time, he had nightmares for a week.

About the whole ’getting to know you ‘ thing, it sounds great. I’d love to. It’s a date. No, I’m joking, but seriously, it should be fun. We hardly ever get time to talk about normal stuff at Hogwarts, what with homework and all the other stuff that comes with having a Homicidal sorcerer after you.

Modest, am I? Well, I wouldn’t call it that. More stating the truth, really. You know, sometimes being impulsive isn’t a good thing, you saw what I was like last year. It makes you do foolish things which could land people in nearly fatal situations.

But if you really want to, you can just let it out, you know. I never used to, it kind of wasn’t really allowed at the Dursleys, but I’m glad I can now. I know very well now, that there are more important things than Books, but there are more important things than bravery and courage as well. It’s all very well being this great wizard that everyone looks up to, but it’s even better when you have people you love at your side, that’s where you get your real strength. And look at me, I go all soppy. But anyway, what I’m trying to say is, if you want to say something, Hermione, say it. Don’t keep it bottled inside, isn’t that what you told me? See? I listen to you.

Oh, and by the way, there’s no doubt you belong in Gryffindor. You’d need to be brave just to be my best friend.

So, you really blushed that much when you read my letter? I can’t imagine a blushing Hermione. I should start complementing you randomly just to see if you’ll blush. But I’m glad my opinions mean something to you, yours do to me as well. But you probably gathered that already. But, thanks for the compliment all the same.

Actually, I have a question for you. I hope this isn’t too personal or anything, but Ron showed me the letter you sent him as your reply. You handled it pretty well, I thought, though he has been moping around a bit. I’m sure he’ll get over it. But the thing is, he said something on the night that I arrived about thinking he knows who it is you love. Is it too personal for me to ask who it is? Ron really seems to have convinced himself that he’s right in thinking he knows who it is, but I’m afraid to ask him in case it upsets him or something.

Anyways, write back, Beautiful. (See? I told you I’d start complementing you randomly, are you blushing yet?)

Lots of Love,

Harry xxx

He added the usual amount of kisses to the bottom of his letter, then with a daring thought, he added another one. With a smile, he read and re-read his letter to make sure it sounded alright. He knew it was a bit flirty, as one might have called it, and slightly more bold then he usually would have written, but something in the air was causing him a slight daring air. He was just about to proudly roll up his long scrap of parchment when Fred and George burst exuberantly into the room, with Ron trailing dejectedly behind.

“Hey, Harry! Up for a Chess Tourny? You can… hey what’ve you got there?”

Harry made to stow it out of sight before George lunged for it, but he successfully grabbed it and opened it. With his face turning a deep shade of embarrassed crimson, Harry covered his eyes as Ron and Fred joined George in reading Harry’s letter.

“Hey, it’s to Hermione!”

“Why are you writing to her? She’s going to be here in a week!”

“What the--”

Harry looked up just in time to see all three faces in a kind of muted shock. With a half amused, half curious smile, Fred looked up at Harry, as Ron continued to read down the parchment. Harry wished he wouldn’t.

“A date, huh, Harry?” Fred inquired, as George began to snigger beside him. Harry felt his face grow even hotter. “Since when have you and Hermione been dating?”

“Yeah,” came Ron’s voice, and Harry peered through his fingers at him, to see his face growing pink and his ears becoming a nice shade of red. “Since when?”

“We’re not,” Harry tried to justify himself, amid hearty sniggers and disbelieving snorts. “We’re just joking, it’s nothing, really. Can I have my letter back now?”

Getting up and grabbing his parchment back, he quickly rolled it up and gave it gratefully to Hedwig, who seemed to sense Harry’s embarrassed distress, as she took flight as soon as the letter was clenched firmly in her beak. Turning back to the other three with a resigned feeling of apathy, he was quite surprised to see the twins sharing a gleeful smirk, which clearly meant they were plotting something. He was even more surprised that Ron didn’t look the least bit angry. He had gone back to that same resigned sadness he had been carrying all week.

With a fake sigh, Fred caught Harry’s attention again as he and George headed for the door.

“You do know that Mum is going to want to hear of this, Harry?”

“Yeah,” agreed George with the same mischievous smirk. “And Tonks, Lupin, Moody, Kingsley, Arabella, Dung, and Dumbledore.”

Harry’s bottom dropped out of his stomach as he gaped at the twins. Finally being on the receiving end of their practical jokes was not in the least bit funny.

“No… you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t… I’m meant to be your financial backer! I mean… Oh, don’t be evil, Guys!”

With an evil cackle, the two left the room. Harry was left with an immense feeling of dread, and as he turned back to fling himself onto his bed with embarrassment, the feeling intensified greatly. Ron was sitting on his own lumpy four poster, his eyes staring fixedly at the floor, and his ears now a good shade of purple. Harry moved across to his bed tentatively and sat himself upon the fluffy duvet, his eyes not meeting Ron’s.

“You’re… You’re not mad with me, are you, Ron?” He asked timidly, playing with a small piece of his blanket. “I- I didn’t mean for it to happen like that… I mean… I didn’t mean for it to happen at all…”

To his surprise, Ron calmly shook his head. He looked up at Harry, with that same reconciled air in his eyes, and sighed.

“Just tell me this, Harry. Do you love her?”

Harry was quite taken aback by this answer, and by big mistake he answered far too quickly, and ended up stuttering his answer.

“No! I mean, I-- um- I’m not sure-- I mean, I don’t know… uh…”

He looked up at Ron, his face burning again, and sighed. Ron was looking at him with a sceptical face. Harry sighed again, his insides doing a sort of triple jump forward flip. It was time he faced the truth.

“Yes. I do. I love her.”

He expected some kind of berating for this, for in many ways, he had stolen Ron’s thunder, stole the friendship and affection that Ron and Hermione shared. He felt terrible, guilty and nervous, and wished Ron was say something, anything. He even wanted Ron to shout at him, or hit him. Something that Harry felt that he deserved to do.

Ron didn’t move. Instead, with a pained saddened voice, he said forlornly; “Then there’s not really anything I can do, is there? I knew you did. You two are meant to be together, there’s nothing anyone can do about it…”

Harry froze. He tried to gulp, but his mouth had suddenly become very dry. Finally, he managed to stutter a response.

“You-- You knew? But… what? How, I mean? I didn’t even know? What do you mean we’re meant to be together?”

“It’s the way you two act around each other. You’re always so open with each other. It’s always you that saves her, or helps her. It’s always you that goes off on some adventure with her and leaves the rest of us behind. It’s always you that she cares about first, and vice versa. I suppose I was trying to keep my place in the trio by asking Hermione out. I mean, if she went out with me, then maybe things would stay the same, but…”

With that, he dejectedly threw his four poster hangings around him. Harry sat there mutedly, digesting this piece of information that had eluded him for four or so years. How could he not have noticed? How could he have taken all that for granted and not realised? All those times that he and Hermione had stuck together over the years, all the support she had given him, consciously and subconsciously, all those things they had said to each other. The hugs, the kisses on the cheek, the words of remorse and luck. How could he have not grasped that it was because they were meant to be together?

He looked hopefully out of the window, where he had sent Hedwig along with Hermione’s letter not ten minutes ago. With the letter sent, the growing feeling of excitement arose in Harry like never before. Soon, he would find out who Hermione liked. Soon, he would know whether they would be together or not.

4. The letter that changed their lives

Author’s Note:

Thank you all for the reviews! I love getting them, gives me that warm, tingly feeling inside.

* * * *

The week following that night’s awkward conversation passed quickly, and Harry was pleasantly surprised that the theory of time passing painfully slowly when you want it to speed up was disproved. However, the feeling of excitement soon turned into a sort of frenzied panic as Hermione’s arrival drew nearer. After his confused confession the other night, his thoughts of Hermione were more frequent, more established, and they continued to grow until they clouded his everyday life and left him with a faraway smile fixed permanently onto his elated face. Though everytime this happened, he got a hearty snigger from Fred and George, and he desisted.

He seemed to be cheering Ron up however, as even Ron had joined in with their friendly teasing, at first it was slightly awkward, as Harry walked into a room with a dreamy air and an elated smile one day, his thoughts totally on cloud nine, he attracted the all-too familiar snickers of Fred and George, and with a mockingly dark look at them both, he turned to face Ron for their game of chess, and found him trying avidly to hide an amused grin. Harry feigned shock and hurt at this, but all in all he was glad Ron was cheering up. It would erase any awkwardness between him and Hermione when she finally arrived.

It was quite a few days since Harry had wrote back to Hermione, and since he gained no reply from her, he began to grow slightly worried. Maybe he had crossed the line? He had assumed that with their new-found closeness that Hermione would trust him with anything, isn’t that what she said in her letter? However, he still couldn’t shift the growing feeling of anxiety that lingered in his stomach, eating away at his insides. He wondered why he was over-reacting like this, he was so dependant on Hermione’s reply. Maybe it was because he had finally confessed to himself that he did indeed like her as more that a friend?

As he lay forlornly on his lumpy four-poster after dinner one night, his belly full of Mrs. Weasley’s wonderful treacle tart, he waited again, as he had done night after night, for Hermione’s reply. Everyone else was down in the living room, playing chess and having fun, and Harry knew he should be down there with them, but he had ardently made his excuses to leave, accompanied by Fred, George and Ron laughing jokingly behind their backs, and retreated back to his room. However, he was just thinking of going back downstairs to join them when his pretty snowy owl landed with a graceful thud right next to him on his pillow.

Harry’s heart leapt as he fervently sat bolt upright, almost throwing Hedwig across the room in the process, and practically ripped Hermione’s reply from Hedwig’s beak. She gave him an indignant, angry hoot and clicked her beak, and Harry had to take the time to calm her down and apologise before turning his attention to Hermione’s surprisingly lengthy letter.

Hi Harry,

You have no idea how much I blushed at that last letter, no one’s ever called me beautiful.

Anyway, I know you probably want an answer to that question, and why not? You’re my best friend, you have a right to know. I feel like I can tell you anything now, since we’ve been writing to each other more, and I know that this might shock you, but I trust you. I wasn’t actually going to tell anyone, I really wanted to keep this to myself, believe me. But what you said, in your last letter; ‘things are even better when you have the people you love at your side, that’s where you get your real strength.’ it made me cry. Yes, me, Hermione Granger, the heartless bookworm who doesn’t feel at all, cried. So I’m trying my best to do what you told me to do, Harry, I’m letting it all out.

You know, I’m surprised Ron managed to figure it out, I thought I hid it so well. Plus, I’m sure you’ll agree, Ron isn’t really the most sensitive type. Still, I suppose something’s can’t be kept a secret for long.

See, the truth is, Harry, that it’s you. The person who I love is you.

I’m sorry if it comes as a shock to you, and I’ll be devastated if this ruins things between us. You mean so much to me, Harry, so much you wouldn’t believe. You were my first real friend, the first one who really wanted to know me. You help me so much even though you don’t notice it. You make me so angry at times, but I’ve never been as happy with anyone else than I’ve been with you.

I feel like I’m taking a complete risk in telling you this, I know that you have a lot on your mind right now. I’m just hoping you can put this past you and still like me. Your friendship means the world to me, and I really don’t want to risk that for anything. I hope this doesn’t cause any awkwardness between us at all, and between you and Ron. You see, all these reasons are why I kept it to myself in the first place. And I kept it so long, Harry. 3 years… I’ve loved you for 3 years. I’ve seen you with Cho, seen you ogling at Veela, and it broke my heart. But since I value your friendship more than anything in my life, I didn’t say anything.

Please don’t feel sorry for me, I would hate for us to be awkward when I finally get there. I hope this won’t ruin out ‘date’.

I’m really sorry for heaping this all on you now, Harry.

Love you, more than you’ll ever know,

Hermione.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry was fervently trying to contain himself. His face was fighting a losing battle of whether to laugh or cry, and his voice was cracking gently as he contained the extremely ecstatic whoop he was longing to let out. His jubilation threatening to overcome him, he contented himself with jumping noiselessly around the room, his arms and fists punching the air animatedly. He felt wonderful, his heart was surely cracking with the compelling feeling of happiness within him. She loved him! She said it herself, all in beautifully black and white ink. Throwing himself dreamily onto his bed, he stared up at the wonderfully mouldy ceiling, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement, a happy feeling of numb disbelief spreading through his entire body. She loved him… she LOVED him…

The feeling of excitement intensified greatly as he remembered that it was only a few days until he saw her again. Thinking that it would be a good idea to reply to her before she arrived, otherwise he’d start kissing her senseless without any explanation, he haphazardly grabbed his writing equipment, and with a light head, he began to write.

Hi Hermione,

You should have seen me when I read your letter. Actually, I’m glad I read it alone, I’m sure I looked like a right twonk afterwards.

I went kind of nuts to be honest, I sort of jumped up and starting punching the air, I don’t mind telling you. I can’t tell you how happy your letter made me, and I can tell you, it makes me twice as happy to be able to say this to you; I love you too.

You know, telling you to let it all out was possibly the best advice I’ve ever given anybody. I’m so glad you told me, I really am. I can’t wait to see you on Friday, I just want to give you a great big hug right about now.

It was actually Ron who woke me up, you know. Fred and George managed to steal my letter to you before I sent it, and they all had a very good laugh at my expense. Ron took it very well, he told me that he knew that I loved you, and that we were meant to be together. Heh, this is Ron talking…I was quite surprised. He said he’s really happy for me, and you. I suppose that would get rid of any awkwardness between you two when you come.

So, what I really want to ask you now, is will you go out with me? I know our friendship means everything to you, it means the world to me too, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t think I’d be able to cope with you just being my friend. I need you, Hermione. Badly. Fred, George and Ron have all had a good laugh at the fact that I can’t get this stupid smile off my face whenever I think about you, which is most of the time. I really think we’d make a good couple, I mean, whatever I felt for Cho, it’s more than a hundred times as strong for you. So, I hope you’ll say yes…

I can’t wait to see you on Friday, and I’m really looking forwards to our date. I want to get to know you even more now.

See you on Friday, Beautiful.

Love you, more than you think.

Harry

Harry noted with added bliss, the amount of kisses Hermione has added was uncountable. Harry tried to add the same amount none the less.

As he finished his letter, and gave it to a tired Hedwig, Ron burst noisily into the room just as Harry set himself back on his bed, the faraway grin still fixed firmly in place. He didn’t notice Ron give him an inquiringly strange look, and was brought straight back to earth when he heard Ron’s voice instead of the one he was dreaming about.

“Hey! Hel-lo! Earth to Harry! What’s the matter with you?”

Harry did not answer. He couldn’t trust his voice to speak without breaking. Instead, with a shaking hand, he carefully handed Hermione’s letter to Ron, as if it were made of glass. Ron read it quickly, his face remaining passive. Harry watched him tentatively.

As he finished reading it, he briskly handed it back to Harry, his face still remaining passive. However, staring at Harry, his face broke into a huge grin as he let out a loud ’whoop!’ and gruffly gave harry a large Hug. With lots of slapping on the back and manly grunts, they soon let go, their manly pride getting the better of them.

“Hey, what did I tell you, mate? I told you she was besotted with you! I’m glad you two finally figured it out!”

Despite Harry’s elated mood, he couldn’t help think suspiciously of this statement.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Ron? I mean, I’d understand if you weren’t…”

“Of course I am!” Ron walked over to Harry and slapped him merrily on the back, causing Harry a painful tinge, which he blatantly ignored.

5. The Letter L

The next couple of days were spent in silent hell for Harry, his insides churning with the thought of what would happen when he and Hermione finally met, after all the confessions they had made to each other. Admittedly, he was in ecstasy at the prospect of Hermione actually loving him, and he her, but he wondered whether or not she would actually go out with him as he had timidly asked in his previous letter. He knew she would have no time to reply before she arrived, so she would have to answer him face to face, and that thought terrified Harry.

On the eve of Hermione’s arrival, he sat wearily in his room, wondering what it would be like the next day. Would they be awkward? What if all this turned out to be a big mistake? He knew that when he saw her, none of his previous feelings would change. He’d still love her, no matter how awkwardly. Yet, would she still feel the same? He lay there silently on his lumpy four poster bed, a powerful kind of ache inside him, half excitement, half terror. Questions were running through his mind, questions that he knew not to ask, he had promised Hermione he wouldn’t think about all this, but he couldn’t help himself.

For some reason, he kept thinking about Sirius. He knew he really shouldn’t, but Harry could not stop this horrible sunken feeling he had in the pit of his stomach, one that nagged away at him whenever he felt happy, or whenever he thought of Hermione and smiled that wonderful goofy smile that could only come when thoughts of her lovely face swam about in his head . It told him he shouldn’t be happy, not now. He was supposed to be in mourning. Had he gotten over Sirius’ death that quickly? It made him feel dirty with guilt.

He spent half the evening contemplating, his thoughts mingled into a kind of mixed-up feeling that he himself could not really understand. At about half past eight, Ron charged into the room with a loud energy that Harry knew he should have. Ron was more excited about tomorrow than he was, for Harry’s sake. He was surprisingly taking the whole thing well, averse to what Harry’s suspicions were before. Harry had assumed that Ron was only putting on the good face, only pretending to be happy for he and Hermione. To be honest, Harry hadn’t really expected him to be ready to deal with it quite so soon. It just wasn’t Ron to be grown up about the whole thing, and take it like an adult. However, Ron had managed to assure Harry that he was truly over it. He claimed that he didn’t really think he ’liked’ liked Hermione at all, and only said he did because he felt like otherwise, he’d be a third wheel of the trio as he saw that Harry and Hermione were better suited.

Ron flumped onto his bed opposite Harry’s with a loud exuberant groan, running a hand through his flaming red hair as he sank into the lumpy depths of his four poster. Harry suppressed a laugh whenever he did this. Ever since his trip into Snape’s memories last year, he was forcibly reminded of his father whenever Ron ruffled his hair. He supposed it was just the fact that seeing anyone ruffle their hair would remind him of it.

“So, excited about tomorrow then, Harry?”

Harry sighed, his head heavy with the conflicting happy and nervous thoughts of tomorrow and flopped backwards onto his own bed, ruffling a hand through his own jet-black hair.

“I don’t really know, Ron. I’m kind of confused to be honest.”

“What?” Ron sat up, his face in a kind of confused grin, as if teasing. “How can you be confused? You’ve both admitted that you like each other… oh wait, LOVE each other…”

Harry rolled his eyes with a half amused, half exasperated smile. Ron seemed to take great fun of the fact that they didn’t just like each other, the word ‘love’ was involved.

“Har Har, Ron, try a different joke, that one’s getting old.”

“Yeah, well, anyways,” he said, regaining his teasing manner, “You’ve both admitted it, hell she admitted it first. So what’s the problem?”

Harry considered whether to tell him what was really troubling him. He knew Ron would understand, he certainly wouldn’t laugh, but somehow he felt that he would feel slightly… pathetic… talking about it. He had just considered not telling him when the small part of his brain that sounded like Hermione kicked in.

‘She said not to bottle it all up. You told her not to bottle things up. Being slightly hypocritical, aren’t you?’

If he could have kicked himself without attracting too much attention he would.

“I suppose, it’s… well… it’s two things. First is that I’m worried that she might change her mind when we meet face to face. You know, it’s the first time we’ll have met where we both know how we feel about each other, I’m afraid it’ll be awkward…”

“Naw, you don’t have to worry about that, Harry…” Ron laid back against his pillows, folding his arms lazily behind his head as he surveyed Harry. “She’ll be fine with it. You’re best friends, as well as… you know…”

He held two fingers up on each hand as he ‘quoted’ the next word.

“LOVERS”

Harry picked up one of his pillows and threw it at him, failing to stifle a gruff laugh. He merely knocked it professionally to the floor.

“And anyways, I’m sure she’ll feel just the same as you do. You two were meant to be together, even if you just act normal that would be fine. Everyone in Hogwarts thought you two were a couple anyway…”

“What?!”

Ron chuckled, lifting his flaming head a little higher.

“So, what else is eatin’ ya?”

Harry lowered his gaze and stared fixedly at the small moth-eaten hole in his woolly blanket. This was the part he’d hoped Ron would forget to ask him about. As he felt Ron’s gaze on him, he sighed deeply, the nervous and gloomy thoughts winning the war against the happy in his head.

“Sirius.”

He felt rather than saw Ron grow tense, like anyone did whenever Sirius’s name was brought up in conversation. He knew Ron would rather he not talk about this, it was a painful subject for everyone. Even Ron, who had only been his friend, still missed him dearly.

“W-What about Sirius?”

“I… just feel like I shouldn’t be doing all this right now… you know? I’m supposed to be in mourning, or whatever… I just don’t think that it’s very respectful to him to be asking people out and dating while he’s just--”

He began to fiddle absent-mindedly with the small hole in the moth-eaten blanket, his heat heavy with gloom and sadness. He hated to burden Ron with all this, but, well, he did ask.

“Oh… Well, you did read what I put in my letter, didn’t you?

“Er--”

He hadn’t. As soon as he saw Sirius’ name on the scrap of untidy parchment he had skim-read all of it, ignoring anything to do with Sirius. The only person who actually got through to him was Hermione.

Ron seemed to sense his answer, but surprisingly did not mind.

“Never mind, I knew you’d probably ignore it.”

“What? Am I that predictable? Even Hermione said I’d probably skim read through it!”

Ron laughed and the sound brought back a little peace to the raging war in his head. Happiness seemed to have struck a good blow.

“Anyway, what I said was; Sirius was a good fun-loving guy, he really wouldn’t have wanted to you shut yourself in and mourn over him for ages. Sure you’ve done your fair share of mourning, no one can say that his death hasn’t affected you. Hell, everyone knows how you felt about him Harry, there’s no need to prove yourself.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He knew Ron was right, he just didn’t like that evil-sounding past tense ringing in his already raging ears. However, this time, it did sound right. This time it sounded to Harry like the right words to say, the right tense to use.

“So, if I were you, Harry, I’d let it go. Let him go. I’m sure he’ll understand, wherever he is. He’s still there, Harry… like… your mum and dad…”

Harry looked up at Ron, his face twisted into a sort of gloomy surprise and found him looking awkwardly at his own mouldy blanket, his face and ears turning a deep shade of crimson.

Harry knew it was time to face the truth. Sirius was dead. It sounded right in his head now, however much he loathed it. However, this loathing was not something he felt he should base his life on anymore. He needed to go on living. Ron was right, he was still there, still watching over him, like his parents, as Ron had pointed out.

Harry sighed. It appeared he had gotten over his grief after all.

* * * *

When Harry woke up that morning, he sat up dazedly ruffling a hand through his hair, trying to remember what was so special about today. As he rubbed his sleepy eyes, it clicked. Hermione.

With the force of a baby elephant Harry energetically tried to jump out of his bed, only to get caught by the musty old green blanket. He did a sort of funny turn in mid air and came straight back to earth, with a loud bump.

“Oooowwww…”

“Whassamatter, Harry?”

“Fell out of bed.”

“Oh, ok.”

Ron turned over sleepily as Harry desperately tried to disentangle himself from the blankets dusty clutches. As soon as he succeeded, he jumped up again, careful to stay away from any hidden blankets, and practically threw his clothes on in his rush to get up. As he was pulling his jeans on however, he tripped up accidentally and added another large bump to the one he had gained from the blanket. The noise finally woke Ron up.

He sat up and yawned widely, his red hair standing up in all directions. It was like watching a redheaded Harry. He rumpled his hair tiredly, rubbing his eyes, and began to get out of his bed when he saw Harry, in a heap on the floor. His face was absolutely priceless.

“Harry… what are you doing down there?”

Harry threw him an evil look.

“I’m painting a picture. Help me up.”

As Ron grabbed him by the arm and dragged him bodily upwards, he began to chuckle amusedly. Harry threw him a questioning look.

“I know why you’re so clumsy today…”

“Really? Well done, Ron, gold star for observation.”

Ron laughed sleepily, and ruffled his hair distractedly.

“You’re just jumpy cause your Sweethearts a’comin today!”

He laughed fully now, and Harry reached behind him for the nearest pillow. Before he could throw it though, a thought popped randomly into his head, and he thought he’d better not throw it in case Ron wouldn’t answer him afterwards.

“You know your brothers said that they’d tell everyone..? Well… um… Did they?”

Ron laughed even harder and Harry gave an impatient sigh,

“No, my brothers are evil, but even they wouldn’t go telling something like that to my mum without you saying so. You know what mum’s like. As soon as she sees you two together, you’d better be ready for ‘the talk’.”

“The talk?”

“Oh yes, Harry,” Ron smiled a wicked smile that highlighted his uncanny resemblance to his brothers. “The birds and the bees.”

With that Ron stood up from his bed and yawned widely and falsely, inching nearer to the door. Harry gulped at the prospect of having ‘the talk’ from Mrs. Weasley and was too preoccupied with this thought to notice Ron edging nearer and nearer to the bathroom door. When he did notice however, it was too late. Ron speedily grabbed his towel and rocketed into the bathroom shouting; “Ha! I’ve got the bathroom!” leaving Harry to smack right into the door having raced for the bathroom himself.

* * * *

It was almost twenty minutes until she arrived, and Harry felt like his stomach was filling up with some kind of extra-wobbly jelly. He was sitting in the small dingy kitchen where candles were floating above his head, adding dim light to the dark room. Ron was sitting directly across from him, wolfing down the porridge Harry had made them for breakfast, Ron couldn’t cook. They were up before anyone else that day, it was only half 9 in the morning and the inhabitants of Grimmauld place were well known for their adamant laziness.

Trying to occupy himself to pass time, Harry tried to eat the porridge that he had inattentively made for Ron and himself, but as he had not paid too much attention to his actions when making it, it was lumpy and cold, with a big dollop of blackberry Jam in the middle. Wrinkling his nose at it, he pushed it away.

“Don’t you want that, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t really trust himself to speak right now. With that, Ron swapped his own bowl of lumpy porridge for Harry’s and began bolting it down with added fervour. Harry almost laughed.

From the door came a faint knock and the ringing of the soft dinging bell, which caused Harry to virtually fall out of his seat to answer it. Ron just sat at the table with an amused look on his face, to which Harry shot back with a evil look.

“I’ll get it, shall I?”

Ron gave a small laugh, Harry could tell he was really trying to keep himself from bursting with teasing laughter. Muttering to himself under his breath about Ron and his ‘damn bad jokes’, Harry made his way timidly to the large oak front door. Taking a deep breath, his heart jumping straight into his throat, he opened the door.

There she was, more beautiful and breathtaking then he’d been imagining. Her face was lightly tanned from the sun and she was wearing a pretty white skirt and patterned top. She was beaming at him, her face tinged a slight red, but her eyes alight with happiness. Without waiting for a hello, she jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly and he wrapped his own arms around her, a giddy feeling of relief and happiness filling his head. He held her just as tightly back, wanting to hold her forever now that he was finally able to.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you, Harry, I’ve missed you so much!”

He laughed, the giddiness getting more and more prominent now that the strawberry scent of her hair had reached him. Pulling her backwards, he smiled the first proper wide smile for what seemed like years. She beamed back at him, showing off her beautifully white teeth.

“I’ve missed you too. You’ve no idea.”

She giggled, and without warning, she threw herself on him once more as she pressed her lips to his own. Harry’s eyes widened as he quickly got over the shock of Hermione kissing him, but soon relaxed and began to kiss her back, feeling as though they were flying. They continued to kiss in the dusty hallway of the mouldy and mildewed house, wrapping their arms tighter and tighter around each other.

A chorus of cat-calls and whistles interrupted them and they broke apart to cheers and clapping from Fred, George and Ron, all standing in the doorway to the kitchen, their faces alight with glee.

“Cor blimey! Giving off a bit of a show there, aren’t you?”

“It was like he was eating her alive!”

They laughed nervously, their face glowing crimson. Harry looked across to Ron to see what sarky remark he would contribute to the situation. He was wearing a cheeky, amused face.

“Well, if that’s going to be all you two do for the rest of the summer, then I’m outta here…”

6. The Date.

Author’s Notes: Well, it’s the part I know you’ve all been waiting for, The Date. Hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it!

And now… onwards!

* * * *

Harry was in sheer bliss. Even spending just a day with Hermione and their new found feeling between the two of them was enough to raise Harry’s droopy spirits immensely. He found himself practically skipping everywhere, whether or not he had Hermione accompanying him, which was most of the time. Wherever they went, Diagon Alley, Muggle London Cinema’s, she was always there with her soft dainty hand in his, and it made him feel on top of the world. Yet, after all the time they had spent talking (amidst other things) about their letters they had sent to each other, the subject of their ‘date’ had not yet been brought up.

It was Hermione who finally brought up the subject one night when she, Harry and Ron were sitting in the dingy little drawing room of the mouldy old house, playing chess and cuddling up (Ron playing a one-sided game of chess against Harry who, of course, was cuddling with Hermione).

“You know, Harry… we never had our ‘date’.”

Ron perked his ears up with interest, which earned him a mock dark look from Harry. Ron still seemed to take great amusement in the fact that Harry and Hermione were dating, and they ‘loved’ each other. Of course this didn’t really bother Harry and Hermione one bit, if anything, it encouraged them further to the point that Ron frequently had to leave the room claiming he was; “Grossed out”.

“Oh yeah? When was this decided then? During one of your snogging sessions I suppose?”

They all shared a laugh, just like old times. These moments were rare in the times they were heading towards now, what with the looming weight of the war sitting on their young shoulders.

Harry looked towards Ron with a jokingly scathing look.

“Actually, Ronald, it was decided before we actually told each other how we felt. Sort of a ‘friendly date’ thing. Though can’t promise there’ll be much that’s strictly ‘friendly’ about it now though…”

Ron suppressed a fake shudder as Harry cheekily pecked Hermione on the lips. She let out a soft giggle, and hugged Harry closer.

“Now now, Harry, I’ll have you know I’m not that sort of girl…”

Harry gave her a mock disappointed look, as Ron chuckled and remarked; “Looks like you’re shit out of luck, mate.”

Hermione giggled further at the look on Harry’s face, as she pulled his face closer to her own. Her voice became a husky whisper.

“But I’m sure I can make an exception just for you…”

Harry beamed as Ron tried and failed to suppress a loud laugh that echoed around the small drawing room. As he continued to guffaw noisily, the door opened and a curious-looking Mrs. Weasley opened the white-washed door. She looked confusedly at Ron before she noticed Harry and Hermione, who both blushed a deep shade of crimson. Mrs. Weasley didn’t know about them yet, but from the position they were both in, Harry was sure she’d have figured it out by now. Hermione was sitting ominously in Harry’s lap, her hands around his neck, cuddling him closer, as Harry laid his hand on her leg, her pretty white skirt riding up just a little. Harry knew that they must look a sight from someone else’s point of view.

“Harry… Hermione… Erm… is there anything you would like to tell me?” She inquired with a wide kindly smile. She seemed more interested and happy for them than Harry thought she would be.

“Um… yes… actually, Mrs. Weasley…” Hermione began, and Harry could feel her shaking slightly on top of him. He lifted a hand up gently to wrap his fingers in hers and she smiled at him serenely in gratitude. “Me and Harry… well, we’re kind of dating… and uh… we take it quite seriously… if you get what I mean.”

She exchanged a kind of women’s intuitive look with Mrs. Weasley as they locked eyes. Harry exchanged a bewildered look with Ron, who merely shrugged, They seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes, like a whole new language that only women understood. After a tense moment, Mrs. Weasley sighed and beamed a warm smile at the two of them.

“Well, Congratulations, Dears! You two make a brilliant couple! Deary me… You’re all growing up so fast… seems only yesterday you were starting Hogwarts… now look at you… all grown up…”She sniffed tearfully, and pulled out a large white handkerchief from inside her robes, which she used to noisily blow her nose on. Harry, Hermione and Ron blushed. “Oh! Which reminds me! You two are going to need a serious talk, you know…”

Harry’s insides seemed to fall out. Ron had warned him of this. It seemed Hermione had caught on as well, as she paled and gripped Harry tighter. Ron let out a suppressed manly giggle and looked up at the two of them, battling with his instinct to grin amusedly. However, he was silenced with a warning look from his mother.

“Ron, out.”

“What? But, I wanna see--”

“Out!”

He did not go quietly. He seemed to feel that he had missed out of a real treat, as he made his feelings quite clear when he frog-marched out of the room, mumbling curses under his breath about how he ‘wanted to see them squirm’. The door slammed and they were left alone.

Mrs. Weasley calmly sat opposite the two of them , and they felt the need to disentangle themselves from each other at last. It was kind of awkward trying to hug each other with Mrs. Weasley peering at them.

“Now then… I’m sure your parent’s must have talked about this with you, Hermione. After, you are a girl, and, well, at your age, I’m sure you’re well aware of how it all works.”

With a crimson face and a meek smile, she nodded faintly. Harry’s insides squirmed. He hadn’t had anyone to explain it to him. All he’d had were mutinous threats from the Dursleys that if he ever got a girl pregnant, he’d get no help from them. Harry hadn’t even wanted to think about it at the time.

“Now, Harry--”

Harry gulped.

* * * *

They walked out of the drawing room about half an hour later with wide eyes and pale faces. It was worse than anything Harry had ever expected. She has given them the full degree, not easing their relief by leaving any detail out.

Harry shared a dubious look with Hermione, who returned it fully, they both let out a nervous laugh.

“Well, after that, Harry, I’d say we don’t have too many secrets from each other now, do we?”

Harry shook his head. From the description he got from Mrs. Weasley, he almost felt sorry for Hermione. However, something about that statement made something click in Harry’s head. Then, suddenly it clunked heavily into place.

“Our date.”

“What?”

She shot a amused, curious look at him, and he returned it with a cheeky smile.

“You wanna go on our date now?”

“What? Now? But where will we go?”

Harry looked about the musty landing for an idea, anywhere where he could spend some time alone with Hermione for a while. His eyes landed on Buckbeaks room. Perfect. He gently took Hermione’s hand and led her towards the door.

“In here.”

He led her inside and shut the door, amidst heavy crunching sounds coming from behind him, where Buckbeak lay, munching noisily on a chicken bone. As he turned slowly away from the door, he was suddenly met with Hermione. She unexpectedly crushed him against the door , her lips pressed onto his in a overwhelming kiss. It grew more and more heated as Harry wrapped his arms around her, not really sure of what to do, but his instincts were slowly taking over, and all the blood was rushing away from his brain. His thoughts were wiped as Hermione pressed herself closer to him, and he kissed her back with added fervour.

After a few heated minutes, she quickly pulled away, leaving Harry with a dazed, almost disappointed look on his face. After all, all the blood had vanished from his head, so he was left with a stupid grin. Hermione giggled at his smile.

“Come on, we’re here to talk. Come and sit down…”

She took Harry’s hand and began to lead a reluctant Harry to a large dusty space on the floor. As they sat down, Harry leaned lazily against the mouldy old wall, leaning his head back on the carpet of dust that covered it like wallpaper. Hermione curled up tightly against him, and lifted a hand up do she could grasp Harry’s own strong fingers in her own. It was very cosy sitting there, with Hermione cuddling up against him.

“So, what do you want to talk about first?”

“Hmm… I want to know about your family… I’ve never really properly met them.”

Hermione looked up at him, surprised. He gave her a questioning look.

“Really? They seem to know an awful lot about you for people who’ve never met you… but then maybe I just went on about you too much…”

She blushed, and the sight was adorable. Harry chuckled softly, and brought her closer still.

“Well, I’ve said hello, and everything, but I don’t really know them like I do Ron’s parents…”

Hermione made a noise of agreement, then laid her head further backwards, so it was sitting nicely on Harry’s shoulder. He looked down at her with a happy smile.

“Well… where do I begin? They’re both dentists… as you know. Very strict on the whole Dentist thing.

‘Brush your teeth every night and no sugary snacks, Young lady!’”

Harry laughed, as did Hermione. She let out her soft giggle, which she seemed to reserve only for Harry. He had never heard her use it when they were with Ron.

“Apart from that though, they’re lovely. Two of the best you could ask for… and… uh…”

She looked up at Harry, suddenly sheepish, which caused Harry to smile even more at the lovable sight.

“Do you mind talking about this? I mean… I don’t mean to make you feel bad or anything…”

Harry let out a small chuckle. He was grateful that Hermione had considered his feelings in all of this, but to be perfectly honest he really wanted to hear it.

“Of course not. I never really had any inkling of what parents might be like when I was growing up, I like to hear about other peoples. I mean, It’s nice to hear what having parents should be like. What really bugs me is when people like Dudley shout at their parents all the time, screaming stuff like he hates them and they’re horrible parents. Maybe they are, but they’re still his parents…”

He broke off, musing angrily. Hermione shot him a sympathetic look. Twisting around in her seat on the hard wooden floor, she turned around to face Harry still sitting on his lap, but almost straddling him. The thoughts that this simple action brought to Harry’s mind were about to take over when Hermione brought a hand under his chin and smiled sweetly.

“Tell me.”

He was reluctant to tell her, he didn’t want her pity. He didn’t want her to think lowly of him, but like they had shared in their letters, things shouldn’t be kept in like that. He knew that keeping in the things that the Dursleys once did to him, on top of all the other problems he now had, would not do him any good in the long run. So, with a reluctant grimace, he turned sombrely to Hermione.

He told her how they treated him, how he was made to live in a dank, small cupboard under the stairs until he was 11, and any clothes he owned had previously belonged to Dudley, who, being at least five times bigger than Harry, and Harry always being small for his age, the clothes felt more like circus tents. His meals were always smaller than everyone else’s, his Aunt always thought that Dudley should have more to eat than Harry. At school, he was laughed at for having baggy, hand-me-down clothes and large glasses that took up most of his face, and he had no real friends, Dudley had seen to that. Every time someone got close to Harry, Dudley would come sauntering along, with his large, scary group of friends, and drive them away. Aunt Petunia encouraged it. She said she ‘didn’t want Harry to tell any tales on them’. Harry almost lived in fear of Dudley, for he was always bullying, always threatening to ‘do Harry in’ every time Harry did something to annoy him, which was surprisingly often.

Hermione listened in shock to Harry’s stories, her face almost unbearable to Harry’s eyes. She seemed to genuinely really pity him, and he hated pity. He wouldn’t blame her for it though, he knew his childhood wasn’t exactly ideal. He had to grow up too quickly, he learnt to cook, clean and do all the jobs an adult should do at the age of seven. From the age of eight, he knew how to do everything Aunt Petunia did.

As he finished his tale, he chanced a small, tentative glance at Hermione. Her deep chocolate brown eyes were filling with glistening tears, and she looked at him with utmost sympathy. Lifting a soft hand gently to his face, she took his cheek in her hand, and stroked it gently, her eyes boring directly into his.

“I’m so sorry, Harry… I never knew…”

Harry attempted a reassuring smile. His rotten memories had cast a downer on the whole ‘date’. He was looking forward to this date as soon as they’d arranged it, but now, he’d single-handedly managed o ruin it for the both of them.

“Please don’t worry about it… it’s done. There’s nothing I could have done about it. I’m… uh.. I’m sorry I ruined our date…”

She smiled, lifting her hand ever so slightly to rest among Harry’s jet-black locks, and began to softly twist the strands between her dainty fingers.

“You didn’t. This was what this date was meant for… to get to know each other. I don’t want secrets… I want us to know each other… completely.”

With that, she sealed the matter with a slow, sensual, earth shattering kiss, cupping Harry’s face to hers gently. She raked her fingers gently through Harry’s hair as he brought his arms around her and hugged her tightly, his hand coming up to hold her soft brown hair. It snaked through his fingers like water as they continued their embrace, completely oblivious to the sounds coming from the munching Hippogriff next to them.

With a small creak, they were interrupted, and they pulled away from each other slowly, wide, contented smiles on their flushed faces. At the door was a bewildered looking Ginny, her blue eyes wide and her jaw subconsciously dropping to the ground.

“Wha-What the hell? When.. What? How?”

Harry and Hermione laughed, the sight of Ginny so flustered was hard to come by nowadays, now that she had come out of her shell in her fourth year, and let loose the witty, spunky girl inside. Usually, in situations like this, she would make some sort of funny or sensible comment, similar to what Fred or George would have done. Now however, she looked quite different.

“When did this happen?”

“A couple of days ago, Gin.”

Harry beamed at her as he held Hermione closer, who giggled and hugged him back.

Ginny stared at them with utter disbelief. Her flaming red hair drooped around her shoulders as she stared at the two of them, her eyes wide and her jaw still dropped.

“Why wasn’t I informed of this? OH, I am going to KILL Ronald!”

With that, she stomped out of the room, only looking back around the corner of the door frame to say a hurried; “OH, by the way, Congrat’s guys.”

They laughed heartily as they heard her thumping down the hallway shouting.

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! I want a word with you!”

* * * *

Authors Notes: Well, that’s it, I’m afraid. I’ve sooo enjoyed writing this, it’s been a load of fun. I’m actually thinking of doing a one-shot sequel, called Woes of a Weasley, which is going to be all about Ron’s take on the situation. Look out for it!

Disclaimer: Since I forgot to put this at the beginning like I was meant to, I’ll put it here. The characters/Locations/anything Harry Potter related in this story do not belong to me, they belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling, who I think should buy a monkey who can write fast for her, so she can hurry up with the next book! I’m dying for it! Ahem… anyway. This story is written purely for enjoyment and I get nothing from it, except the satisfaction of loads and loads of reviews (thankies, guys ^_^). Harry Potter is copyright of J.K. Rowling (thank you J ) and (unfortunately L ) Warner Bros. Inc. Though the plot is mine! I can actually claim that! I came up with the plot. Wooo, I own something! © Epona.