A/N: I'd like to apologize, in advance, for the very bad joke I make in the beginning of this chapter. I know this has been done before, but I couldn't quite help myself from pointing out that just about everything in JKR's universe happens to have sexual undertones. Also, I'd like to apologize for doing an H/Hr scene that has been done thousands of times before in the past. Again, I somehow couldn't help myself-I wanted desperately to do my own version. Thirdly, I'd like to apologize for making these author's notes completely incomprehensive due to the fact that I'm apologizing for things I don't want to spoil anyone for.
Thanks again for all the lovely feedback. All the encouragement definitely helps spurn me on.
Two days before the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, McGonagall stopped the trio on their way to breakfast.
"Good news, Potter," she said tersely. "I've just spoken to all your teachers. And while some of them feel that your work hasn't improved…" McGonagall frowned darkly. "Most of them do. I see no reason why you cannot participate in this weekend's match against Ravenclaw. However, you are still on probation… we will be monitoring your level of work very carefully…"
Hermione squealed and flung her arms around Harry. "We did it!" she said excitedly.
Harry breathed her in, holding her tightly. "Well, with you helping me…" Ron coughed. "And Ron, of course… it was only a matter of time before I caught up..."
Hermione didn't let go of him right away and Harry decided that it was just fine with him.
McGonagall clucked her tongue. "Well, please win… I've become used to seeing Gryffindor on the cup."
Hermione beamed and squeezed Harry a little harder. "With Harry playing Seeker, Professor, you don't have to worry."
Harry flushed. Ron snorted and looked at Professor McGonagall. "They're just friends, you see," he explained slowly. "There's nothing but platonic love between them."
Reluctantly, Harry gently pried Hermione's arms off him. "We are just friends…" he said irritably.
Ron snorted, rolling his eyes at McGonagall. "See, they think if they say it enough times it'll come true…"
"Ron!" Hermione said, voice high-pitched. "Sometimes you are just so… tactless!"
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Yes, well… I must be off…." Looking intensely uncomfortable, McGonagall quickly disappeared in the opposite direction.
Harry watched her go, beginning to grin. "I'm going to be playing Quidditch again," he said reverently.
Ron clapped him on the back. "We're going to win again!"
Hermione sighed. "Honestly, Quidditch isn't the only reason to keep up in school, Harry…"
"Not the only one, sure…" Ron said. "The most important one…"
Happily, Ron and Harry continued on to the Great Hall, excitedly planning their upcoming game. Hermione followed behind them, mumbling under her breath.
"Okay," Ron said. "Ravenclaw… no trouble at all… Chang's still Seeker, you could take her no problem…"
"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah, best not to underestimate her, though…"
Ron scoffed. "She's a terrible Seeker, Harry…"
"I've always thought so!" Hermione grumbled from behind them.
The two boys promptly ignored her.
"Their beaters aren't half bad…" Harry said. "Could give us trouble…"
"'Spect they'll aim at your head…"
"I can handle myself. How about their Keeper?"
"Not half-bad. He's not a king of course…" Ron said quickly.
They slid into their usual seats in the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione on one side and Ron directly across from them. Hermione took a long gulp of coffee before turning to Harry, a wistful glint in her eye.
Harry was immediately suspicious. "What?"
"As fascinating as all this Quidditch talk is, I know what I want," Hermione said. "For helping you."
"Yes?" Harry prodded gently, eager to get back to discussing his upcoming game with Ron.
"I want you to show me how to ride your broomstick."
Hermione's declaration made Ron start choking violently. Dean and Seamus both looked over in slight interest. Luna slid in next to Ron, watching him in vague worry as his eyes filled with tears and he busily began gulping down a glass of water.
Harry flushed, suddenly aware that Hermione now had his full attention. "You… erm… what?"
Hermione scowled. "Oh, honestly! Not that broomstick! You're real one!"
Ron choked even harder, water spewing out of his mouth.
Harry felt all the colour drain from his face. "Erm, Hermione, I'm not sure that would be such a good idea…"
"You're Firebolt, Harry!" Hermione exploded. "Broomstick! Flying broomstick!"
Ron looked in dire need of air.
"Oh," Harry answered stupidly. "I suppose that would be okay…"
Ron snickered. "Bit of a disappointment, eh?" he asked, in a choked voice.
Hermione glared at him. "Shut up, Ron."
Harry's mind was frantically trying to process. Hermione wanted him to teach her how to fly. But she already knew how to fly. Plus, now that he thought about it, he didn't think that giving her flying lessons would really do all that much good for their whole 'we're just friends' thing.
"But, Hermione, you already know how to ride a broomstick," Harry protested slowly.
That sent Ron into another fit.
"Yes, but not well," Hermione responded, ignoring Ron. "I was hoping you could give me a proper lesson…. You ride better than anyone I know."
Ron was taking great gasping breaths of air in between chugging downs glasses of water.
The entire conversation was quickly going somewhere that was making Harry entirely too uncomfortable. He was also horrified to note that the direction of his blood flow was going somewhere that was about to be quite embarrassing. Resisting the urge to start cursing aloud, Harry hunkered down near his food, hoping that Hermione would stop talking.
No such luck.
Hermione was looking at Ron in vague disgust when her eyes suddenly glinted mischievously. "Hey, Harry?"
"Yes?" Harry answered, shifting uncomfortably.
"Do you still have that Broomstick Servicing Kit I gave you a few years ago?"
Harry stared at her, panicked. A loud roaring in his head was preventing him from thinking properly. 'Just say no!' something in his mind screeched. 'For the love of Merlin, say NO!'
"Ye-no. No, I don't."
Hermione looked downcast. "I thought it was one of your favourite gifts."
Harry began shifting uncomfortably again. "Well… you know how out of it I am. I probably lost it."
Hermione looked hurt. "You… lost it?" she whispered.
Oh, damn. "Erm, no. Actually, no. Now that I think about it… I still have it."
Hermione's eyes widened innocently. "Oh, well, then… do you think could also show me how to service your broomstick, as well?"
Ron dropped the glass of water he'd been drinking. Seamus paled. Dean gasped. Neville looked confused. Luna stared dreamily off into space.
"Erm…" Harry stuttered, standing up. "I have to… cold shower…"
Harry did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He ran away.
Ron grinned after him. "That was so mean, Hermione. What did he do to deserve that kind of torture?"
"Well, he did rip out my heart, stomp on it a few times and then hand it back in shreds." Hermione looked off into space for a moment, a small smile curling on her lips. "Was rather mean of me, wasn't it? But, for the record, I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about." Dismissing him, Hermione opened up her Daily Prophet, completely oblivious to the horrified looks all the Gryffindor boys were shooting her.
"Remind me to never break her heart…" Seamus muttered to Dean.
"Never break her heart," Dean returned in a horrified whisper.
Ron shifted a little closer to Luna, giving Hermione a wide birth as he did so. "She's mental," he said in a strangled voice.
Luna smiled dreamily, blinking her wide eyes several times. "I don't think I'd have a problem riding your broomstick, Ronald…"
Ron swallowed hard. "This is all your fault," he snapped at Hermione. "I hope you're proud."
There was a slight rustle of newspaper as Hermione turned the page. "I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about."
***
"Okay, so hop on, straddle it between your legs and hold it with a two-hand firm grip, only not too tightly…" with a slight curse, Harry trailed off, feeling more than a little bit stupid. For the first time in his life, he felt a wave of dislike for flying, broomsticks, and Quidditch.
Harry was horrified to see that Hermione looked rather amused by the whole thing. She swung her leg over his Firebolt and grinned. "Okay, straddling, gripping… what's next?"
"Right. Give it a good kickoff and let yourself float up in the-"
"You're coming with me, right?"
Harry swallowed with some difficulty. Bad, bad idea. Very bad idea. "Erm, no."
"Why not?"
"You know why not."
She let out a long, annoyed sigh. "Oh, honestly, Harry, if we can't restrain ourselves for one measly little broom ride…"
Harry decided that he hated it when Hermione said 'Oh, honestly…' because it generally meant that she was vastly annoyed with him.
"Besides," she continued, with some frustration. "You said you'd help me learn how to fly properly. You're certainly not going to be much help if you're on the ground and I'm up there."
He did know that. He just really didn't think it was such a good idea for their delicate friendship to be put to test on his broomstick. All horrible sexual metaphors aside, he would be awfully close to her, feeling rather protective if she was indeed terrified, and a flying broomstick ride suddenly sounded like a very romantic thing to be doing.
"Fine," he relented heavily. "Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
"No more of this wanting to ride my broomstick nonsense. I can't take it. I know you want to learn how to ride a broomstick, so just don't mention it again, okay?"
She grinned. "Can I mention servicing your-"
"NO!" he hollered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Goodness gracious, Harry, it's just an innocent, little joke-"
"Innocent?" he repeated, thunderstruck.
Hermione sighed. "Just get on the broomstick, Harry."
Harry, still grumbling under his breath, climbed on behind her. He sucked in a breath when she leaned back against him. He had no idea where to put his hands. They seemed too large all of a sudden, and too much in the way. Closing his eyes, he wrapped them around her waist, holding her tightly. 'Too close…' his mind warned, 'too close.'
"So?" she asked, voice trembling a little. "What do I do next?"
"Kick off," Harry muttered. "Get us in the air."
"Right," she whispered. "You already told me to do that."
"Then do it," he said gruffly.
She kicked off and Harry felt the familiar wind whip by his face as they soared into the air. She was trembling slightly, and kept glancing downwards. "Concentrate on what you're doing," Harry said softly. "Don't think about how high up you are. Just focus."
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Focusing…"
Harry allowed her the chance to steer and get accustomed to being in the air. It was the first time he'd been on his Firebolt since Professor McGonagall had kicked him off the team. Though Hermione's movements were jerky, he enjoyed the familiar feeling of weightlessness and soaring.
She took a hard right and the broom jerked sharply. She gasped loudly and looked down. "Oh, no…" she moaned.
Harry held her a little tighter. "It's okay…" he said. "You're doing great."
Wind rushed by their faces, blowing her hair into his face. Her hair smelled sweet, like fresh flowers and baked apples. Harry took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the fact that he was attempting to teach her how to fly. But it had been so long since he'd been so near her and she was pressed up against him so completely, trembling slightly with fear. She smelled wonderful, and he remembered, with vivid detail, what it was like being with Hermione. Touching Hermione. Kissing Hermione.
Achingly slow, he brushed his hand over her side, trailed it up her back until he could gently push her hair off to the side, exposing the bare skin of her neck. She tensed, but made no other signs that acknowledged his movement.
"The thing with flying," Harry whispered, leaning down until his lips hovered over the skin of her neck. "Is that it's more of a physical reaction." He pressed his lips to her neck, pressing delicate kisses to her skin until he reached her jaw. She shivered slightly and Harry was sure it had nothing to do with fear. He kept moving, tracing his lips over the curve of her cheek until he reached her ear. "Sometimes it's better to let your senses take control."
He moved to her earlobe, sucking on it gently and scraping her skin with blunt teeth. She let out a low moan. "Oh… Harry…" she said softly.
Her voice sent a jolt to his system. He skimmed his lips behind her ear, his hand sliding over her hip to come to a rest on her stomach. "Thinking too much can be dangerous. Just let your body react…."
She turned her head until her lips met his. Her hand came up to cup his cheek and Harry closed his eyes, losing himself in the kiss. What started off as gentle quickly became more heated and desperate. Though alarm bells were going off in Harry's head, he didn't care, choosing instead to hold her closer and deepen the kiss.
Hermione pulled away, leaving Harry's head reeling and his entire body tingling. She let out a loud shriek. "THE WHOMPING WILLOW!"
Her cry awoke him from his sluggish state and he was horrified to see them careening at full speed straight towards Hogwarts' most famous tree. He could see the tree quivering in delight, sensing their approach.
Harry reached around her and, grabbing the broom firmly with both hands, jerked it up. They arched upwards, avoiding the tree by only inches. The tree swung one of its gigantic branches in their direction, but Harry swerved, and the branch flew harmlessly by them. Once they were clear of the Whomping Willow, Harry stopped his Firebolt and hovered in midair.
Hermione burst into tears.
"You nearly KILLED us!" she wailed. "You said you'd teach me how to RIDE A BROOMSTICK! Not how to DIE ON A BROOMSTICK!"
She was trembling so hard that her teeth were chattering. "It's okay," Harry said, rubbing her arms. He was shaken up himself, an image of his once beloved nimbus two thousand flashing through his mind. "We're okay. Nothing happened."
"You bring me back down to the ground this instant!" she yelled. "Get me off this thing! GET ME OFF!"
"No," Harry said forcefully.
"WHAT???" she hollered.
"No," Harry said again. "I messed up. Generally I'm not so distracted when I'm flying, okay? I know you'd make a great flyer… just give me another chance."
She trembled violently. "I want to STAND on solid ground! LET ME OFF!"
"Just… just trust me," Harry said quietly, urging his Firebolt foreword.
"No! NO WAY! I WANT TO LAND!"
"Okay," Harry said innocently, pointing the nose downward. He took off in a fast Quidditch dive, rushing at the ground.
Hermione started shrieking again, yelling various curses that would have made even Ron blush. Harry kept going, watching as the ground roared up to meet them. At the last second, he pulled out of the dive, moving along beside the ground. Before Hermione could get her bearings, he soared off in the air again.
"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?"
"Because," Harry said, as they executed several flawless dips and dives that had Hermione yelling herself hoarse, "I need to show you that I know what I'm doing. And that you're perfectly safe. Just… try it again, will you?"
To Harry's surprise, Hermione burst out laughing. It was somewhat of a hysterical laugh, punctuated by more tears, and shocked gasps, but it was still a laugh.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Hermione asked.
"No," Harry answered, feeling annoyed. "What am I doing?"
"You're forcing me to ride your broomstick."
Harry was beginning to get irritated. "What did I say about broomstick metaphors?" he snapped. "Besides, I would never make you do anything you were uncomfortable with…"
"LIKE RIDE A BROOMSTICK?"
Harry sighed. "You wanted to learn. Just… please… try it again. I promise I'll try and refrain myself from kissing you."
"Fine," she grumped, taking control of the broom again. "What do you want me to do?"
"I just want you to be comfortable," Harry said. "And what I said about the physical thing… it is true. Just let yourself feel the motion of the broom. Don't try and control it-feel it. You can't study how to fly, it's something that has to come naturally and from instinct."
Hermione huffed out a breath. "I know that or I wouldn't have asked you for help."
"Thank you. You're an absolute joy when you're in a bad mood."
"I'm not in a bad mood!"
"Okay," Harry agreed easily. "Now, concentrate…"
Harry was surprised when Hermione shifted closer to him, pressing herself against him until her back molded against his chest. He sucked in a deep breath, reminding himself to take his own advice and concentrate.
"Oh, I wish…" she said, her voice hushed and tinged with sadness. "This would be so romantic if…"
"I know," he whispered, swallowing deeply.
"Harry, you just kissed me," she said softly, in a slightly accusatory tone.
Harry felt a stab of annoyance. "You kissed me!"
"Well, you started it!"
Harry let out a pained sigh. "Fine," he said crossly. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"You're sorry?" she whispered, sounding hurt.
"Not really." He paused. "But we… can't. You know why we can't." Harry glanced around him, realizing that the open air and Hermione's close proximity made him feel freer than anything had in a long time. "Maybe… I dunno… we could just… pretend for a while..."
Hermione didn't make a reply, choosing instead to concentrate on her flying. At some point Harry began to notice that Hermione wasn't actually that terrible of a flyer. She finally stopped trembling and seemed to relax into the pattern. Her motions became more fluid and she eased the broom into easy dips and turns.
Finally, she said, "I think pretending would end up hurting more in the long run."
Harry felt a lump gather in his throat. "Fine," he said hoarsely. "Then nothing happened. We're just friends. And I'm just showing you how to ride my broomstick."
Hermione cracked a tiny smile. "Best friends," she whispered fiercely. "You're my best friend… don't ever forget that."
Harry nodded, feeling miserable. "Yeah."
Hermione executed a mini-dive, before pulling the broom sharply up and cruising through the air. "Hey!" she said. "That wasn't that bad, was it?"
"No," Harry answered, somewhat surprised. "You're… not bad at all, actually. I thought you said you were a terrible flyer."
She shrugged. "I am. I was. I know a bit… Viktor gave me some lessons back in our fourth-year."
Harry felt his chest tighten. "What? What? VIKTOR DID WHAT?"
Hermione sounded faintly annoyed. "Well, flying was sort of his thing. He was paid to fly. Naturally I took that opportunity to attempt to learn a few new things. He's probably the best flyer in the world."
"You said I was the best flyer you knew!" Harry exploded.
Hermione let out a long sigh. "Honestly, Harry, jealousy doesn't look good on you. Who are you, Ron?"
"YOU DIDN'T JUST KISS RON ON MY BROOMSTICK!"
Hermione sighed again. "Well, if you must know," she said crossly. "Viktor and I never kissed when he gave me flying lessons. He was a perfect gentleman."
Harry scowled. "Are you implying I'm not?"
"Harry, don't be stupid."
Harry's scowl increased. Taking control of the broom, he steered it towards the ground. "
Fine. Since Viktor already taught you everything you know about flying…"
"Harry, you're being stupid," Hermione snapped, exasperated.
Harry stopped the broom rather forcefully. "That's IT!" he cried. "GET OFF MY BROOMSTICK!"
Hermione got off, but whirled around to face him. Her face was pink and her eyes were narrowed furiously. "Honestly! What's gotten into you? What does it matter what Viktor taught me about flying? It was YEARS ago! Besides, like I said, we never KISSED while we were flying-"
"SURE!" Harry yelled. "Because he was too much of GENTLEMAN! I know, Hermione! Viktor's absolutely perfect. Viktor taught you so much more than me. I'm just a horrible teacher…."
Hermione looked furious. "Harry… you're so STUPID!"
"I KNOW!" he hollered. "YOU'VE BEEN TELLING ME SO!"
"I never wanted to kiss Viktor when we were flying," she replied scathingly. "You're the ONLY person I've ever kissed. Don't you UNDERSTAND that?"
Then, Harry wasn't really sure how it happened, but he wasn't on his Firebolt anymore. No, he wasn't. He was in the grass, flat on his back, Hermione firmly on his chest, and kissing the living daylights out of him. The kiss was none too gentle either. Her hands were fisting though his hair, tugging a little bit harder than was necessary. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip to the point of pain.
She pulled away from him with a sudden gasp, staring down at him in anger. "YOU'RE SO STUPID!" she shouted again.
"Okay…" Harry said, trying frantically to get his bearings. "Fine… I'm stupid…"
She scrambled off him and stood over him, her breath coming out in short gasps. "This isn't right," she said.
Harry closed his eyes, feeling blades of grass tickling the back of his neck. "It feels right. Kissing you feels like-"
"I know," she said, her voice breaking. "It's just that… we're not together like that anymore. And we can't do this if we're not. It's not… it's not right."
Harry opened his eyes to find her staring down at him, her eyes full of tears. He swallowed stiffly, feeling familiar pain settle on his chest. Ironically, the only thing he could think to say was, "I don't think I'm jealous of Viktor Krum anymore. Even if you think he's a better flyer than me."
Hermione let out a tiny bark of hysterical laughter. "I don't think he's a better flyer than you, Harry."
"Well, good," Harry grumped. "Because he's not."
Hermione just shook his head. "Yeah, and you're not jealous anymore, either."
"No, I'm not," Harry snapped.
Hermione blinked back her tears and chuckled softly. The fight seemed to go out of her and she sat down next to him, her arm brushing up against his. "The famous Harry Potter. Jealous of some Quidditch player."
"He's not just 'some Quidditch player,'" Harry answered irritably. "He's a brilliant Quidditch player."
Hermione just shrugged. "I don't know. I can't tell what separates a good player from a brilliant player. You all just go zooming around up there, chasing after goodness knows what."
"Goodness knows what?" Harry repeated, horrified.
"Well, there is the Snitch and all that," Hermione reflected. "But it does seem rather silly, doesn't it? It's just a tiny ball, really…"
"A TINY BALL?" Harry asked, aghast.
Hermione grinned impishly. "I'm sure it's not indicative of anything, of course…"
"Hermione!"
She chuckled and shook her head. "I guess… I just wanted to understand what it was about flying that you were so taken with." She paused. "I think I get it now. When you're up there… you can pretend that nothing else matters, that you're the only person in the world. It's… powerful."
"It's not just the power," Harry said quietly. "It's the freedom. It's like… when I'm up there… I can just be. I can be normal… I can do things I normally wouldn't…"
Their eyes locked. "Like…" Hermione whispered. "Kiss your very platonic best friend?"
"Something like that, yeah…"
"Harry, what-"
"I don't know," he interrupted tersely. "Don't ask me what's going on between us because I don't know what to tell you." He looked away from her. "Nothing's changed. All the reasons I broke up with you… they're still there, Hermione."
Hermione let out a little choked sob and stood up. "I know!" she snapped angrily. "We've been through this! You ripped both our hearts out over this! You're still ripping our hearts out over this! I just wish that… oh, I suppose it doesn't matter…"
Harry looked up at her. "What?" he demanded. "WHAT?"
She glared at him. "I just wish that you would stop thinking about yourself for a minute."
Harry kicked at the grass. "What do you think I'm doing?" he cried. "If I was just thinking about myself, we would still be together! I've been doing everything for YOU!"
"No, you're not," Hermione said, though not unkindly. "You think you are but you're not."
Harry stared at her. "You're not making any sense. Hermione, I'm not girl. Stop being so ambiguous and just TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN!"
"You know what?" she yelled. "Forget it. When you think you can act like an adult, come and find me. Thanks for the flying lesson."
Hermione turned on her heel and stalked away.
Harry watched her go, a confused look on his face. Angrily, he gathered up his broom and flung it over his shoulder. He stomped back to the castle, feeling furious with Hermione. Well, she should have known. She was the brightest witch in their year. Taking a bloody broomstick ride was not smart. In fact, as she had made quite a point of saying, it was downright stupid. He hadn't been that close to her in nearly two months! What had she expected him to do? Just sit there and pretend that being near her didn't drive him crazy… or that he didn't miss her terribly…
Harry was so angry that he was panting when he reached the Fat Lady. "Podfungus," he snapped at her.
"Well, you're in a fine mood," she said huffily, swinging open to let him pass.
Harry flushed and stalked through the entrance. He was so distracted that he collided right into someone coming out of Gryffindor tower.
"Ouch!" Harry yelled, making a beeline for his broomstick.
There was a responding, "Argh!" followed by low, sheepish tones. "Harry?"
"Ron?"
"Yeah… how are you? Gotta go… urgent homework that needs attention… you know how it is…"
"Yeah. Me, too. I have to do, well, you know… see you later…."
Nodding briskly, they brushed by each other. Harry was depositing his broom when something sunk in. He dropped his Firebolt (something he'd never done before) and raced out of the room. The Fat Lady looked decidedly unhappy about having to open for him again.
Ron met him in the hall, wearing a matching expression.
"YOU!" they yelled at the same time.
They both took a nervous step backwards, watching each other suspiciously. Finally, Harry swallowed and held up a hand. "You have lipstick on your mouth," he said quietly.
"Oh, yeah?" Ron said hotly. "So do you!"
Harry blinked, and smoothed a hand over his mouth. He winced, his bottom lip stung painfully and he wondered, yet again, when Hermione had started wearing lipstick.
"It's still there," Ron said irritably.
"Well, fine!" Harry said. "Yours is, too."
Ron scowled. "What's it to you, anyway?"
Harry just stared at him. "Well, who was it?"
"Luna," Ron answered stiffly.
Harry's eyes bugged. "You kissed Luna?"
Ron flushed. "No, actually," he said with some dignity. "She kissed me."
"Right. And I suppose you immediately pushed her away..."
"Not… not exactly…"
"Huh," Harry answered, eyes glinting.
Ron blushed. "Well, so what?" he asked loudly. "I can't very well wait around for Hermione to notice me for the rest of my life!"
"Well," Harry prodded. "Does that mean you're over her?"
"Luna?"
"HERMIONE!"
Ron blinked and thought it over. "Dunno."
"How can you NOT know?" Harry demanded. "You kissed Luna! That should make things fairly clear!"
"She kissed me!" Ron repeated again. "Besides, Harry, it's not like I can magically just stop liking someone! You should know that better than anyone!"
"Do you still fancy Hermione?" Harry pressed.
"Maybe," Ron grit out. "I just told you, I don't know!"
"But you fancy Luna."
"Yes. I think so…"
"RON!"
"I mean," Ron added hastily. "I think… I'm sure, I'd let her snog me again."
"What are you going to do?"
Ron shrugged. "Dunno."
Harry stared at him for a moment, before breaking into a hysterical fit of laughter. "Ron…" he gasped. "We're so useless."
Ron glared at him. "What are you going on about?"
Harry laughed harder. "We try so hard… but we're so lost. Honestly, if we didn't have Hermione telling us how we were feeling… we'd be so confused…."
Ron grinned. "I guess…"
"We think we're doing the right thing, but half the time we don't even know what we're feeling… much less what anyone else is feeling…"
Ron's expression suddenly went from amused to miserable. "Harry, that's not funny," he said seriously. "That's depressing."
Harry slumped. "Yeah… it is…"
They lapsed into a miserable silence, staring at the ground and shuffling their feet. Finally, Ron glanced over at Harry, as if suddenly remembering something. "How's the 'just friends' thing going with Hermione?"
Harry merely glared in response.
"Good, then," Ron said quickly. A sudden thought struck him, and he took two menacing steps towards Harry. "It was Hermione… because if it wasn't…"
"Of course it was Hermione, you moron!" Harry cut in angrily. "Who the bloody else would I go around kissing?"
"Cho Chang?"
"RON!" Harry yelled, the last couple of hours finally catching up to him. "Can't you for once try to be… I dunno… a little more sensitive? Why would I be kissing Cho Chang?"
Ron nodded, calmly accepting Harry's angry tirade. "C'mon," he said knowingly. "We need to go back to the common room."
Without waiting for a response, Ron turned around and started back towards the portrait hole. Harry, after considering his friend's retreating back, shuffled to catch up to him.
"What are we doing?" Harry demanded testily, feeling more than a little frustrated.
Ron ignored him. "Podfungus," he said to the Fat Lady.
The Fat Lady glared at them. "You two again, is it? I suppose you think that's all I'm good for… opening doors all day long… I have a life of my own, I'll have you know… I can't just cater to the petty whims of two boys…"
"Just let us in!" Harry hollered.
Muttering to herself, the Fat Lady swung open and Harry and Ron clambered inside. Upon reaching the common room, Ron led Harry over to a chair and pointed at it with his wand.
"Sit," he commanded imperiously.
Harry sat, beginning to feel more bewildered than angry. "Ron… what's… what are you doing?"
Ron paced back and forth in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. "I," he said after a long pause. "Am going to help you sort out your feelings."
Harry paled. "You're going to… what?"
"You heard me," Ron said continuing to pace. "You and me are going to have a nice long chat about your feelings."
"But… why?"
Ron stopped and stared down at him. "Because, Merlin knows, someone's got to… and since it isn't likely to be Hermione, it may as well be me."
"Ron…" Harry said faintly. "I don't know if this is such a good idea."
Ron looked sternly down at him. "This is going to be painful, Harry. On both of us. But I think that if we act mature enough, and if you're completely honest with me, we can come out of it relatively unscathed."
"Ron," he said nervously. "We're boys. We're not supposed to talk about our feelings. It just isn't done."
Ron's mouth tightened into a thin line. He looked resolute. "Clearly you can't talk to Hermione about this stuff. So it's going to have to be me."
Feeling faint, Harry continued to stare in disbelief. "Feelings… you want me to talk about my feelings? To you?"
Ron looked a little offended. "Yeah, I bloody well do want you talk to me!" Ron resumed his pacing. "So. What just happened? How do you feel about it? How do you think Hermione feels about it?"
Harry swallowed. "Ron, I'm really not sure this is a-"
"I DON'T CARE!" Ron hollered, pointing his wand ominously in Harry's direction. "I've had it up to here with the pair of you!" Ron gestured to a point above his head. "This, 'Oh, we're just friends, though we shoot each other agonizing looks and cry ourselves to sleep at night and secretly want to go off to a closet and shag! Oh, woe is me! Oh, it's so hard being Harry Bloody Potter, I must deny myself every shred of happiness, and stoically persevere! Oh, life is so tough! Oh, my scar is throbbing! Oh, I must cut myself off to save everyone I love! OH, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!'"
Harry's jaw dropped and he stared at his friend soundlessly. Finally, finding his voice, he managed, "I do not cry myself to sleep at night…"
Ron waved his wand angrily in Harry's direction again. "So let's hear it, Potter!" Ron started pacing back and forth, scowling when Harry didn't make a sound. "TALK!" he finally screeched.
Completely stunned, Harry was only vaguely aware that his mouth had started moving. Before he knew it, the entire story came pouring out of him. The difficult three weeks he'd spent pretending to be Hermione's friend, the flying lesson, their impromptu snog, his jealousy and Hermione's anger. He grew more comfortable as he talked, relaxing as he realized that finally he had someone he could talk to, finally someone would give him some advice. As Harry wound down the story, Ron stopped his pacing and stared at him with wide-eyes.
"So let me get this straight," Ron said, beginning to snicker. "You and Hermione started snogging while you were teaching her how to ride your broomstick?"
Harry glared at him and started to stand up. "Well, fine, if you're going to laugh at what I'm saying…"
"I wasn't laughing!" Ron gasped. "It's just…"
"Ron, GROW UP!" Harry yelled.
Ron let out another tiny snicker before sobering. "Okay-just one more thing."
Harry sat back down, continuing to glare at the redhead. "Yeah? What?"
"She kissed you again?" Ron asked, looking incredulous. "Even though she was right pissed at you?"
Harry absentmindedly rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Yeah. I dunno."
Ron shook his head. "Girls… they're so…"
"I know…"
"Never know what's going on…"
"Completely different messages…"
Ron shook his head, as if reminding himself to focus. "So, Harry…" he said slowly. "The real question is… how does all of this make you feel?"
Harry stared at him.
"Angry? Sad? Confused? Happy? Horny?"
"Ron!"
"Sorry," he muttered. "I'm trying to help."
Harry sighed. "I don't know," he muttered looking at his hands. "I'm angry, furious… but not really with Hermione." He thought for a moment, frowning darkly. "I wish I could be angry with her, it'd make things easier. Thing is, I'm mostly angry with myself."
"Harry…" Ron said hesitantly. "I don't want to ask, but… you still love her, don't
you?"
"Yes," Harry whispered. "I can't… stop. I tried."
"Go on," Ron prodded gently.
Harry shifted and stared down at his hands. "Just so you know, talking to you about this stuff is really... weird."
"Harry," Ron said in a patronizing kind of voice. "Talking about this stuff at all is weird."
"I s'pose," Harry muttered.
"So?" Ron prodded again.
Harry nodded miserably. "So much of it has to do with Sirius..." Harry stared off into space, his godfather's name evoking a familiar throbbing pain. He cleared his throat. "Last summer, I vowed I'd never let it happen again. I promised myself I'd do anything to stop Voldemort from going after the people I loved. It's not fair," Harry said softly. "That so many people have died because of me."
"Harry…"
"Don't," Harry said sharply. "I'm just being honest, okay? I'm not saying it was my fault, but it was because of me. Sirius would still be alive if it wasn't for me."
"Yeah," Ron said angrily. "Yeah, right, he could be living in some hell world where You-Know-Who had taken over! Did you ever think of that, Harry? How many people are alive because of you? Hermione's muggle born, you great big prat. Where the fuck do you think she would be if it wasn't for you?"
"But that doesn't change anything!" Harry yelled. "Voldemort is alive! And Hermione's in more danger than ever because I went and fell in love with her! And that's not even the half of it!" Desperate to make Ron understand, Harry stood, looking him in the eye. "Ron, if Voldemort killed you… that'd be it for him. That's the stupidest thing he could do. And he knows it. He knows that I wouldn't stop until he'd paid for it."
Ron actually looked a little choked up. "Thanks, Harry…" he said hoarsely. "That was…"
"I'm not done!" Harry said irritably. "If it was Hermione…" he trailed off, the mere thought making him feel faint. "If it was Hermione, I'm not sure if I could ever… I think it'd destroy me, Ron."
Looking a little faint himself, Ron sunk into Harry's abandoned chair. "Merlin…" Ron breathed. "No wonder you've been so high-strung lately… carrying all of that around inside…"
"That's why!" Harry said, gesturing wildly. "That's why I have to cut myself off from her… that's why I have to-"
"Hold on!" Ron interrupted loudly. "I never said anything about cutting yourself off!"
Harry clenched his jaw. "You're right. I should try one of those spells to erase my feelings-"
"Will you just shut up for one bleeding minute so I can think?" Ron took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "Listen, I'm going to give you some advice now, and you probably won't like it much."
Harry looked at the floor. Suddenly feeling exhausted, he only shrugged.
Ron fiddled with his wand as he sorted through his thoughts. "I think Hermione's right," he said suddenly. "You're being awfully self-centered about this whole thing."
"What?" Harry sputtered. "I thought you were on my side…"
"Think about Hermione for one second, will you?" Ron snapped. "Here you are, going on and on about how losing her will kill you, how you can't let her fall to Voldemort, blah, blah, drama and angst, blah, blah, but you've conveniently forgotten that there's a prophecy predicting your death. I mean, here you are, going on about how losing Hermione would be the death of you, when you're loads more likely to kick the bucket than she is!"
"Ron-"
"And I'm not kidding, either!" Ron yelled, face beginning to turn red. "Can you just put yourself in her place for one moment? I know it might be insensitive of me, Harry, but how can you talk about her dying when it's you that has the bloody prophecy?" Ron's voice softened. "I'm just saying, you're not the only one who has to deal with the idea of losing people you love…"
Harry swallowed. "I never… thought about that…"
"No," Ron said. "You haven't. You've just been thinking about yourself. Granted, considering what you have to deal with, it isn't something that I'm holding against you. Has Hermione said it yet?" Ron continued. "That she loves you?"
Harry stared at him, feeling himself grow cold. "No… not exactly…" he mumbled.
Ron nodded. "She probably doesn't want to admit it."
"Admit what?" Harry asked sharply.
"That she loves you."
Harry brooded over that quietly for a moment, his eyes darkening. Finally, rubbing his eyes, he shrugged. "Well, it just goes to show," he said hollowly. "Things aren't meant to be…"
"I didn't say that."
"Do you think she does?" Harry demanded suddenly, a note of desperation in his voice.
"Love you? Probably. I think she has for ages."
Harry stared very hard at his hands. "I don't know what to do."
"Well, that's obvious," Ron muttered. "How about this? Have you tried talking to Hermione?"
Harry jerked a shoulder. "Sort of."
Ron snorted. "Okay, how about asking her about how she feels?"
"Ron-I think I just need to be alone for a while. Sort things out." Harry paused. "But… thank you."
"Your welcome." Ron cleared his throat. "Actually… I've been… thinking about things recently…"
"Really?" Harry said, feigning surprise. "Did it hurt?"
"Haha, bloody hilarious…" Ron shifted uncomfortably. "It's about something Dumbledore said a while back. He told me that I was a prat to be jealous of you, 'cause I was the one who had everything. Everything that was important, anyway. 'Course, took me a good long while to figure that out. But seeing everything that you have to go through…" Ron looked at him helplessly for a moment. "I don't envy you, Harry."
"Yeah, well… neither do I…" Harry said heavily.
"You need her," Ron said softly. "You need her more than you need anyone else-more than you need me. Yeah, that might make you vulnerable, but…" Ron trailed off and regarded Harry seriously. "What would you be without her?"
Harry didn't answer, choosing instead to study the floor with deep concentration.
"Anyway," Ron cleared his throat. "I think you should know… I'm pretty sure that… I wouldn't want to stand in the way of what you two share. Besides," Ron continued, smiling brightly. "It's my two best friends who are 'just friends'! I should be happy for you two! However… if you ever hurt her… more than you are already… then I will be forced to kill you. Preferably with a sharp instrument."
Harry felt a lump gather in his throat. "Thanks, Ron…"
Ron looked startled. "Harry," he said warningly. "You're getting sniffly… don't you dare…"
Harry blinked rapidly and turned his head to the side. "I've just got something in my eye…"
Ron's eyes widened. "DON'T CRY!"
"It's gone," Harry said quickly. "I'm just going to go up to the dorms now…"
"Good idea."
Harry stared at him awkwardly for a second. Ron stared back.
"I'm not hugging you," Ron finally said, slightly suspicious.
Harry shook his head. "Right. No hugging."
Ron heaved a great sigh and stuck out his hand, coughing slightly. Harry, after a moment's paused, shook Ron's hand.
"Well…" Harry said, clearing his throat.
Ron shifted back and forth. "Well…"
"I'll just be going…"
"Yeah…"
"See you later…"
"Later…"
Avoiding eye contact, the two boys parted and Harry headed up to his dormitory, pondering everything Ron had said. He flopped down on his bed, pulling his pillow over his head. Grudgingly, Harry admitted to himself that Ron was right. He did have to talk to Hermione about how she was feeling. He wasn't sure what, if anything, that would accomplish, but he owed her that much, at least, after everything they'd been through.