Harry was the first to wake into the quiet, early morning. He got up and dressed quickly, the cold floor pinching at his bare feet. He gave a quick, guilty glance at where Ron was still blissfully sleeping. Alone with his thoughts he was able to admit to himself that at least part of the reason why he'd woken so early was to avoid having to look his red-haired friend in the eye. He could also admit that Hermione had a point, he did know how Ron could get sometimes.
Hurrying down to the Great Hall, he wasn't the least bit surprised to find that the only other person up and there before him was Hermione herself. He slid into place next to her. She was stirring a cube of sugar into her coffee mug and didn't so much as look at him when he sat next to her.
"Hermione," he said, quietly.
She blushed, and huddled near her mug to blow on it. She still refused to look at him.
Well, that was fine then. He wasn't exactly the most chatty morning person either. Even grumpier than before, Harry picked at a slice of toast that had appeared next to him. He could hear Hermione stirring her coffee again, the metal hitting the sides of the mug with a dull ting. She had yet to take a sip of it.
"Harry…" her voice was so soft, he was almost afraid that she hadn't really spoken after all. When he glanced at her, she was still hovered down near her mug, but she was biting her lip in concentration. Harry had known her long enough to recognize that she had something very important to say, but first needed to work out how she wanted to vocalize it.
Finally she said, again in the same soft tone so that Harry had to lean forward to hear her, "Was last night real? It seems so far away now… but you're here and I… I don't really know how to act." She lapsed into silence again. "I know everything. And everything I don't know I can look up. But this is different and I don't won't to do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, and…" she went back to biting on her lip. She took a deep breath before starting again. "Is this really happening?" she said again, in an even softer voice..
Harry stared at her, unsure of what she wanted him to say. How the hell was he supposed to have all the answers? It wasn't like he'd woken up yesterday and thought, 'Gee, you know what would make my life great? Kissing Hermione! And then avoiding Ron like the plague! That sounds like great fun!' And now she was looking at him, all wide eyed and hopeful, and he could feel himself getting angry with her again, even though he wasn't even all that angry with her, per say.
"Harry," she sighed. With slight trepidation, she covered his hand with her hand. "Don't get angry with me. I'm not… I'm not upset about what happened." She smiled slightly. "I'm just a little over-analytical. I can't help trying to figure things out… even though not everything has an answer. Some things just are and you can't do anything about it. But if you try very hard to put up with me, I'll try very hard to put up with your mood swings."
He opened his mouth, clearly offended. "I don't have mood swings!"
She just gave him a pointed look.
"Most of the time anyway," he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. She smiled at him, and he was struck by the way her eyes were bleary from the lack of sleep, the way her hair was poorly brushed, matted and knotted on one side. But her face lit up with her smile, her tongue slightly protruding from behind her large front teeth. Why hadn't he ever noticed before how cute she was?
Then it struck him. "You think that I have mood swings? That you're afraid to tell me stuff because I might get angry?"
In response, Hermione leaned up and pecked him on the cheek, she followed that through with a crushing hug. "No, I think you're perfect," she whispered in his ear.
Harry felt a pool of warmth spread throughout his body in response to her words. He hugged her back, enjoying the way that she felt in his arms. At the sound of footsteps approaching the hall, they broke quickly apart like a gunshot had gone off. Hermione turned her head towards her coffee mug and Harry went back to picking at his toast.
The room got louder as the rest of the school filed into the hall for breakfast. Ron slid across from them, looking sourly. There were dark rings under his eyes and he was giving off clear 'Don't TALK to ME!' vibes. Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wouldn't have known what to say to his friend if he'd been up for a chat.
"Oh, swell. Burned toast." Ron picked un-enthusiastically at the toast that had shown up on a plate in front of him. "They went soft on the butter, as usual."
"Well, Ron, I'd like to see you try and butter hundreds of pieces of toast. In fact, I'd like to see you after a few days of slavery!"
Harry had to cover his face with his sleeve to hide his smirk. He didn't do it quick enough, though, because Ron caught his eye and scowled. "House Elves are happy Hermione! They like what they're doing. Trying to give them clothes is about the worst way to treat them, I reckon."
Hermione took a sip of her coffee, setting it back down rather quickly when she realized that it had become rather cold. "So says the white, male, wizard. Not everyone is as privileged as you, Ron."
"And not everyone is as snitty as you, Hermione!"
Hermione glared at him. Ron glared back. Harry sighed and went back to munching on his toast. Hermione stood, gathered her books, and left without saying good-bye to either of them.
'And she says I'm moody,' Harry thought. Ron rolled his eyes at him. "What's her problem?"
"Well, you could try and stop jumping all over her," Harry muttered. "She's very..." he trailed off, not quite sure how to describe Hermione, exactly. "Sensitive?" he tried.
Ron narrowed his eyes at him. "Since when did you join her side? 'Sides, she started it." Then in a surprisingly good imitation of Hermione he said, "'Why don't you try slavery, Ron?'"
"You could try being a little nicer to her," Harry said quietly.
Ron looked insulted. "I'm nice! What's she expecting? Me to happily say, 'Why sure, I'd love to try slavery. Thanks a whole bunch!'"
Harry set down his fork and began picking up his books. "Whatever." And, following Hermione's earlier example, left without saying good-bye.
Ron stared after him, clearly dumbfounded. "I'm nice," he muttered again, vaguely wondering where his best friend went and whom he'd been replaced with. "Bloody weird, was what that was."
Sighing, Ron set down his utensils too and gathered up his books. Alone he trudged up to the Gryffindor common room. He found Harry standing in front of the fire, staring into the flames. Dropping his stuff with a low thud, Ron came to stand next to him.
"Everything okay, mate?" he asked uncertainly. "You seem, errr, a little bit more moodier than usual."
Harry felt his blood rise. "I'm not moody!"
"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say." Ron stared into the flames dubiously, realizing that something was going on, but not quite sure what that was. "I'll be nicer to her. I don't know why I'm so mean, sometimes. I think that I've just gotten so used to it that it's more habit now than actual intent. If anyone else ever said some of the things I've said to her…"
"You'd make them eat slugs?" Harry suggested with a wry grin.
"For instance," Ron deadpanned.
"For what it's worth," Harry said softly. "I know she doesn't like jumping down your throat very much either."
"Yeah. That helps."
They stared into the flames for a while. Harry tried to come up with the best way to say that her and Hermione were… well… with… together. "Ron," he began hesitantly. "There's something that I… well, something that Hermione and I need to tell you."
Ron groaned. "Oh, don't tell me that you're worried about my N.E.W.T.'s scores for next year, too! Mom, Dad, even Fred and George send me owls every once and a while just to make sure that I'm really panicked about it. Though, I think Fred and George only do it because they have a vague hope I might explode or something. Sometimes I'm afraid Hermione's head will roll around and fall off when she really gets going about them."
Harry, who'd been subject to more than a few Hermione N.E.W.T.'s lectures, could sympathize. "No, she hasn't gotten me yet."
"Good." Sudden fear crept in his eyes, "You're not joining S.P.E.W., are you?"
"No! Ron…"
"You like Divination and Potions!"
"Ron… what the hell are you blithering about???"
"You started out with a bad news tone!"
"I did not!"
"You did! Whenever someone says the words 'we need to talk' it's never good. And if it isn't N.E.W.T.'s and it isn't S.P.E.W.…"
"Then it had to be Divination and Potions?" Harry finished.
Ron thought about it and winced. "Good point."
"Besides!" Harry continued. "I didn't say 'we need to talk' I said 'we have something to tell you'!"
Ron still looked uncertain. "Well, what is it then?"
Harry suddenly felt a little bit queasy. 'Hermione and me… we're uh, well, I guess you could say… we're together. You know. An item. Me and Hermione. Don't worry, though. You're still our best friend.' Umm, no. Harry bit his lip and blurted out, "We really think you've improved this year as Keeper! We just wanted to make sure you knew that."
Ron blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, but Harry could tell that he was delighted by the compliment. It only succeeded, however, in giving him a small stomachache.
Harry was quiet all the way up to the Divination's classroom. Not just because it was Divination, but because he suddenly had no idea what to say to his best friend. Every time he thought he had landed on a nice, comfortable easy topic, his face would heat up and he'd start thinking about what he wasn't telling Ron, and then he'd imagine Ron's reaction if he actually knew the truth… and Harry was afraid that it was going to be a really long day.
Ron, on the other hand, didn't stop talking all the way up to Trelawney's attic. Harry's compliment about his Quidditch improvements seemed to make him forget all about his spat with Hermione at breakfast. It at least made Harry's job slightly easier.
"And then Percy sends Mom this letter, same condescending self. He actually has the gall to tell her that it was Dumbledore's fault for keeping You-Know-Who's reappearance so hush, hush. Stupid git. Of course, then Mom starts blubbering ALL over the counter. It's horrible when women cry, isn't it?"
Harry, remembering what happened with Hermione the other night, nodded in sympathy.
Ron actually shivered slightly at the thought. "Anyway. I don't think things are going to be mended anytime soon. I don't want to see Percy again, after what he put us all through. I hope he feels mighty bad for a while, it might do him some good."
"It probably won't change him any." Harry reflected darkly. "People go to great lengths to make themselves believe they're in the right."
Ron looked a little awed. "Wow," he muttered. "That was like… when did you become so phylosophical?"
"Phylosophic what?" Harry repeated, not quite able to look him in the eye. Thankfully, they had reached the Divination's room and, with a sigh of relief, Harry sunk into his normal cushion.
With slight horror he suddenly realized that this was Divination. He had appearances to keep up. He had to… he had to look at Ron and laugh and pretend like everything Trelawney said was a great load of rubbish (whish it probably was, but that was hardly the point). His stomach sank when Ron gave him a gleeful grin. Harry tried to grin in return, but it came out as more of a grimace. With some trepidation, he sank down further into his cushion, wishing that he was invisible.
An hour later, Harry felt like he had run a marathon. It was painful, sitting there and pretending to be happy when really all he wanted to do was go back in time and hit himself in the back of the head for even contemplating kissing Hermione. 'Great move,' he thought, slightly depressed. 'Not only do I have a,' Harry blanched, 'a… a… girlfriend, but I may no longer have a best friend.'
Slightly less happy about the prospect of him and Hermione (bloody hell! Girlfriend! Hermione! Girlfriend!), Harry walked grumpily into Transfiguration. His grumpiness lasted all of about 30 seconds when he caught sight of Hermione, grinning stupidly at him, and giving him a slightly more adoring look than she had just yesterday. Grinning back, Harry stopped short and Ron banged into him from behind.
Ron let out a yelp of surprise. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"I'm, uh… just remembered, I never finished that essay last night."
Ron looked at him quizzically. "But you and Hermione were at it practically all night! How can you not be finished?"
Oh. God. Harry felt his stomach turn over. "I… uh… we… uh…"
Having reached Hermione, she quickly interjected her own explanation. "He wanted extra help with his Potions homework and didn't want you to know about it," she answered primly. "We sort of… forgot about the Transfiguration essay."
"Forgot? Forgot? How could you have forgotten???" Ron was staring at Hermione like she had grown a second head.
Harry coughed slightly, hoping to distract Ron. "So… how about that Quidditch team?"
"Which one?"
"I don't know!" Harry replied with some frustration. "Anyone! Pick one! I don't care! How are they?"
Ron's eyes were jumping back and forth between Harry and Hermione like he was watching a ping-pong match. "You two have gone mad." Apparently satisfied with that answer, he sat down in the seat next to Hermione… at the same time that Harry made a move to sit in the same spot.
They banged foreheads and jumped apart, rubbing at them. Hermione gave Harry a warning glare. Harry found that his throbbing forehead prevented him from caring.
Ron was shooting daggers at Harry with his eyes. "What is wrong with you today?" he snapped, taking the seat next to Hermione.
Feeling quite glum again, Harry plopped down next to him. "I'm worried about the essay," he lied. Again. His head throbbed in tune with his stomach and his forehead. Lying to his best friend was exhausting work.
Transfiguration turned out to be worse than Divination. Ron kept shooting him confused looks every so often, while Hermione refused to look at him at all. Professor McGonagall made sure that everyone was aware that he didn't have an essay to hand in, and he failed miserably at turning his quill into a fork.
By the end of class, he felt like he'd ran another marathon. Keeping up with his bad luck, Professor McGonagall called out, "I'd like a word after class, Potter" before he could escape.
Feeling ill, Harry reluctantly walked up to her desk. He was surprised to find that Hermione went up with him. Professor McGonagall looked equally surprised.
"I believe," she said, "that I asked to see Mr. Potter, not Miss Granger."
"Please, Professor, if this is about Harry's essay, then I think that I should be allowed to stay."
Professor McGonagall looked a little taken aback, but didn't object. Harry couldn't help but beam at her, never before admiring her talent for handling authority with finesse like he did now.
"Very well, Granger," Professor McGonagall said impatiently, "if you have something to say then out with it."
Hermione cleared her throat, clasped her hands behind her back, and raised her chin. "Harry was having emotional difficulties writing the essay, as they reminded him of the events of last year. Seeing how effected he was by being forced to contemplate this particular aspect of his godfather, I encouraged him to not write the essay, as I didn't think the educational benefits outweighed the emotional impact."
Harry stared at her, pretty sure that he hadn't really understood a word she'd said, but very impressed with it, nonetheless. Professor McGonagall weighed Hermione's words carefully. "We are often forced to contemplate things that we do not want to, why should Mr. Potter get special consideration in this manner?"
Hermione looked her in the eye and lost all pretences of trying to be calm and reasoning. "Because Harry's hurting, and if you cared at all about him, you wouldn't make him do something that would add to that hurt!"
Both Harry and Professor McGonagall were taken aback by her words. Harry continued to stare at her with open-mouthed appreciation, while McGonagall looked like she didn't quite know how to respond.
Harry, realizing that he hadn't yet said anything in his own defence, stared at the floor and cleared his throat. "I made a choice, Professor. I knew what I was doing. Hermione only helped to convince me."
Professor McGonagall sighed. "Harry, look at me."
Harry looked up, surprised at being addressed by his first name.
She gave him a tight smile. "I do care, perhaps too much, which is why I asked for an explanation in the first place." She gathered up the stacks of parchments, and seemed to think things over. "I can't, in good faith, give you credit for this assignment when everyone but you handed something in. I can, however, tell you that I think that you made the right choice, and that this won't hold you back." Holding the stack of parchment, she disappeared into her office.
Harry, feeling very tired all of a sudden, was surprised when Hermione grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the classroom. "Well, that went well," she said cheerfully.
"It… did?"
Hermione gave him a disgruntled look, pulling him along to the grand hall. "Yes, she basically told you that you earned more respect from her by not doing the assignment than by doing it."
"She… did?"
"Uh huh. And then she told you you'd earn bonus points for that. So! How was Divination?"
Harry felt a little dizzy. Realizing that she was pulling him towards the Great Hall, he stopped her. "I don't want to eat with everyone else. Can we just… go back to the common room and eat alone?"
"Sure," Hermione said, looking at him in concern. "I'll get us some food. You can head up there if you want." Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she hurried off.
Harry watched her go, his cheek tingling where her lips had just been. He blinked, suddenly realizing that he was falling very hard, very fast. He suddenly wished that he had someone to talk to. What the hell did he know about being a boyfriend? A sudden fear crept over him, what the hell did he know about girls? He desperately wished he could talk to Ron, mentally hearing his friend's response in his head.
"They're all a bunch of loons, Harry. Can't trust any of them. Hot one minute, cold the next, and then they start crying on you! Don't make one ounce of sense!"
Feeling guilty again, Harry walked slowly up to the Gryffindor common room. It was blissfully empty, as everyone was down eating lunch. He didn't have to wait long for Hermione to show up, carrying plates of food. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he wasn't at all hungry.
Seeing his miserable expression, she sat down next to him. Harry tried to force himself to eat, chewing and swallowing without really thinking about it, but not tasting anything.
"It's Ron, isn't it?" Hermione finally said quietly.
Harry nodded. "I've lied to him more in the past few hours than in the last five years of our friendship. It's more difficult than I thought it would be. Every time I try to tell him… I can't."
"I know, me neither."
"And sometimes, I look at him and I can feel it bursting inside me because I want to tell him so bad. But when he looks at me, I can't help it, I lie because I'm too worried that he'll be angry." Harry paused, a part of his mind sharply reminding him of the prophecy Dumbledore revealed to him last year. "I don't know what I'd do if Ron stopped talking to me."
Hermione nodded gravely. Harry realized, with yet more guilt, that he hadn't yet told her about Dumbledore's prophecy, either. She seemed to sense his slight panic, however, because she gripped his hand reassuringly. "He might be upset, but I don't believe that he'd stay that way forever."
Harry pondered her quietly for a moment. The way her eyes looked at him with understanding, but not pity and the way she seemed completely focused on him, hurting with him, and wanting to make things better for him. Harry wasn't sure if anyone had ever really cared like that about him before.
"You were brilliant today against McGonagall," he told her, some pride leaking into his voice.
She smiled warmly. "Clearly being with a smart witch has its benefits."
Harry cupped her cheek and shook his head. "You're not just smart. You're also caring, and funny, and really, really pretty." Harry blushed all the way through it, but considering the way Hermione was beaming at him, he thought he may have finally said something right.
Hermione looked a little flustered, but glowed with pleasure. He looked into her wide eyes and something loud and roaring in his mind yelled at him to kiss her! Kiss her, you dolt! Leaning foreword, he captured her mouth with his own.
The kiss was more tender than their first and a little more desperate. Her lips were soft, her mouth warm and sweet. Harry was again overcome with a strong sense of safety and of being loved and protected. He deepened the kiss, trailing a hand through her hair and resting it at the base of her neck.
When they pulled away, he left his forehead leaning against hers, listening to their ragged breathing. Hermione kept her eyes closed, seemingly still entranced. He smiled, playing with the tips of her hair.
When the door to the common room swung open and footsteps echoed down the hall towards them, Hermione's eyes flew open and they dived apart. Harry scrambled for the remains of his lunch, and Hermione quickly opened a book, pretending to be busily reading. Her face was still slightly pink, and Harry realized he was having a hard time controlling his breathing.
It was Ron. He peered at them curiously, but not really noticing that they were all alone in the common room. "I've been waiting down in the Great Hall for ages! What are you doing?"
Hermione yelped out, "Helping Harry with his potions homework!" at the exact same time that Harry cried, "Hermione wanted to read, um, a book!"
Ron stared at them, his mouth hanging open. He seemed unable to make any kind of noise. Harry couldn't really blame him.
"We, uh, wanted to read and study for Potions," Harry said, his voice taking on a hopeful note. 'Please, please let him just accept it… please let him just accept it…'
Ron closed his mouth, but continued to stare at them like he was suddenly unable to comprehend them. "What the bloody hell is going on with the lot of you?" he demanded, sounding thoroughly confused.
Harry glanced over at Hermione, hoping that her smart brain would allow her to come up with something. Instead, he was horrified to see that she was reading her book upside down. He widened his eyes at her, but she was so focused on reading her upside down book that she didn't notice.
Harry resisted groaning in frustration. Ron was still looking at him like he was a fascinating new strain of insect. However, deciding that they'd obviously just eaten something weird at breakfast, Ron plopped down between them. "Oh joy. Potions next. Can't wait for that one."
Harry nodded glumly. Having just scraped by his O.W.L. in Potions the previous year, he was only taking it because it was required in order to become an Auror.
Ron frowned. "How's your book Hermione?"
"Oh, just great! Very inspiring! Thanks!" she replied breathlessly.
"You know… you're, uh, reading it upside down…"
Hermione hurriedly turned it right side up, shooting Harry a 'why didn't you tell me glare?' as she did so. He tried to give her a 'I did, but you didn't realize it!' glare in return, but he was pretty sure she didn't get the message.
It managed to confuse Ron, though. Further.
Uncertain now, he sounded a little bit more serious when he said, "Are you two sure you're feeling okay?"
Hermione set her book down slowly. "No, we're not. Ron… there's something I… something we need to tell you."
Harry shot Hermione a panicked look. She wanted to do it now?! But he wasn't prepared! He wanted a nice quiet lunch with his girlfriend (girlfriend!), not a gut-wrenching heart-to-heart talk with Ron. He was starting to feel queasy again.
Ron just grinned at Hermione. "It's okay, Hermione. I already know. Harry told me."
Now Harry shot Ron a panicked look. He certainly had not! Unless he was yelling things out in his sleep again… but no, Ron would have brought it up and…
"Harry did what?" Hermione said in a low accusatory tone.
"I didn't!" Harry protested weakly. "I don't know what he's talking about!"
Ron grinned. "Aww, come off it, Harry. You spilled the beans this morning."
Hermione sent Harry such a livid gaze that he was afraid he'd start melting. "I didn't," he tried again, in a weaker tone.
Ron clapped him on the back. "It's okay, mate. I can listen to Hermione praise me about my keeping skills, too. Good for a man's pride."
It took Harry a full ten seconds to register what Ron had just said. When it finally hit him, he felt weak with relief. "Oh… I did tell you that… I remember now…" Hermione looked like she wasn't quite sure what language he was speaking. Harry hastened to explain, his voice booming out much louder than he'd intended. "I told Ron this morning how much better we thought he was playing. Really big improvements over last year." As an afterthought he added, "Sorry, I didn't wait so we could tell him together."
"Oh, right," Hermione said, a little weakly. "It's, well… I suppose that's okay."
"Great!" Ron cried happily. "You guys are the best!".
Hermione and Harry shared matching, guilty looks. Much chipper than he'd been earlier, Ron disappeared to get his Potions stuff from his dorm.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His head was throbbing again.
"We have to tell him soon," Hermione said fearfully. "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this."
"How much longer you can go on like this?" Harry cried, suddenly really irritated with her. "How about me! I sleep in the same bedroom as him, you know! And it makes talking to him really difficult!"
Hermione re-coiled a little at the anger in his voice. "I'm his friend, too." She whispered.
"Yeah," Harry snapped moodily, grabbing his stuff. "The way you guys carry on, it's real obvious!" Stomping out of the common room, Harry realized he was going to be about five minutes early for Potions.
He sighed. He was living in the longest day ever.