Alone in his dorm room, Harry pulled the shades, drew the curtain around his four-poster bed, and, fully clothed, covered himself with his blanket. The silence and darkness of the room was almost worse than the loud stares in Hogwarts' halls. However, it suited his mood perfectly, and he remained in bed, scowling up at the ceiling.
He was beginning to regret ever kissing Hermione in the first place, again. Now he had obligations and expectations. He was no longer just her best friend. Suddenly, everything he said, every way he acted had some kind of a newfound meaning that he didn't quite understand.
And things didn't seem to be going so well on the Ron front. Harry's head began to pound again as he was faced with the very real consequences of what this meant for his and Ron's friendship. Well, he would just have to stay there until Ron came up to bed. He and Ron had fought before and things always righted themselves in the end. Resolute, Harry continued to stare at the darkened ceiling, wondering exactly what he would tell Ron when he finally confronted him.
He felt himself drift off, his eyes closing themselves from pure, overworked, emotional exhaustion. Rolling onto his side, some part of Harry's mind reminded him that he should probably be doing homework, while the other part was more than happy to go to sleep and leave all his problems behind…
Harry felt like he had barely drifted off when something long and sharp jabbed him in his ribs. His first thought was that Ron was so angry he was trying to kill him. This idea startled him so much that Harry jumped up, grabbed his wand, and turned stone-faced to meet his attack… "Neville? "
Neville squeaked and took a step back, tripping on his robes and falling to the floor in a heap. "H-Harry… hi…"
Harry squinted at him, and groped for his glasses, which had fallen off his nose and lay on the bed beside him. "What's going on?"
Neville stood, looking nervous. "Well, I have a message from Hermione…"
"Hermione, huh?" Harry interrupted. "Can't come up and tell me herself, can she? No… wouldn't want to risk another argument with Harry…"
Neville stared at him uncertainly. Finally, looking a little abashed, he said. "I'm sorry I woke you."
Harry, suddenly realizing that Neville was probably the last person who deserved his temper, tried to take in a deep breath. "So… a message from Hermione?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Neville looked a little uncertain. "Well, she says that she really wants to talk to you and… and that you're not treating her very nicely. She, um, she also said that you were a coward for hiding up in your room."
Harry stood up so fast that his blanket tumbled to the floor. "She said what?"
Neville took a step backwards. "Erm… she also said that you shouldn't get angry with me because I'm just the messenger."
Though he was right, Harry still felt furious. "She thinks I'm a coward?*" he yelled. "She's the one sending you to deliver her messages!"
Neville set his face in a resolute frown. "Don't be angry with me, Harry, but I think she's right." Off Harry's livid gaze, Neville seemed to become more determined. He hurried on to say, "Hermione should get the best, and if you're just going to abandon her to both Ron and the rest of the school, then you don't deserve her."
Harry could do nothing but stare open-mouthed at him, partly because Neville had just told him off, and partly because he suspected that he was right. Neville had backed up so much, his back was now pressing against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Maybe he wasn't good enough for Hermione. It wasn't like he was purposely trying to hurt her, it was more that he hadn't the slightest idea what he was doing.
Neville, seeing the change in Harry's expression, let out a little sigh of relief. "Just go down and talk to her, Harry."
Harry nodded glumly and slowly took the stairs down to the Gryffindor common room. Halfway there he stopped suddenly, remembering that his hair and clothes were rumpled from his midday nap. Suddenly self-conscious, Harry almost ran all the way back up to his dorm room to fix it, before realizing that he'd probably never come back out if he did. Groaning, he realized that this was just one more thing he wouldn't have worried about 24 hours ago.
He found Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, curled up in a chair near the fire, a large number of textbooks propped up on her lap. She was taking notes feverishly with her parchment and quill, as the tip of her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth. There was a small plate of food on the table next to her and Crookshanks was curled in a ball at her feet.
Harry, staring at her, felt the last remnants of his anger disappear, and yet more guilt work its way into his stomach. His head still pounding, he headed over to her, feeling the gaze of everyone in the room on the back of his head. He stopped in front of her, and cleared his throat.
She finished with her sentence before putting her book down and staring up at him. Her face registered surprise. "Harry! I didn't think you'd come down."
"You called me a coward," he said, in a half-whine/half-hurt voice, mortified as he did so.
She summoned up a seat with a wave of her hand and he sank into it gratefully. "Well, if there was one thing I knew would get you down here, it was your ego."
"You think I have an ego?"
Hermione didn't answer. Instead she picked up the plate of food next to her and thrust it at him. "Here. Eat."
"You… you brought me dinner?"
She looked at him in annoyance. "Of course I did. You barely ate anything for breakfast or lunch and slept right through dinner."
Harry was touched, despite himself. He still had that sick, queasy feeling in his stomach, though. The thought of food only made him feel sicker. In a quiet voice he said, "Hermione, I think there's something wrong with me."
She peered at him, a little bit of worry creeping into her eyes. "Did something happen?"
He shook his head. "I've just been feeling really sick all day. My stomach hurts and I feel a little bit like I might throw up. My head is pounding so hard I can barely see straight. And my forehead still hurts where I hit Ron earlier."
To his surprise, Hermione burst out laughing. She clutched at her stomach, sending her books (and Crookshanks) flying. "Oh, Harry…" she said between giggles.
"What?" he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice. "WHAT'S SO FUNNY?"
His anger only made her laugh harder. "Oh, Harry…" she gasped. "I adore you… so much…"
"You… you adore me?" He felt that same pleasurable warm feeling wash over him, temporarily overshadowing the ache in his stomach and head.
She finally managed to get her giggles under control, but continued to sit there, grinning at him in amusement.
Harry, for his part, was more than a little confused. How could she tell him she adored him while clearly laughing at something he'd said?
She handed him the plate of food again. "Eat it, Harry. You won't throw up, I promise."
"So you know what's wrong with me, then?"
She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle another giggle and nodded.
"Well, what is it?" he asked testily.
"Harry, you've faced Voldemort four times since coming to Hogwarts, you spend your summers with an aunt and uncle who starve and abuse you, and you play a game that requires flying around in the air at high speeds while balls zoom around trying to kill you. But the idea of a relationship terrifies you."
Harry stared at her for a moment, letting her words sink in. It did make a certain amount of sense. His various aches had really only started in the morning when news of their… erm… togetherness, had finally sunk in. Actually, now that it was so painfully obvious,
Harry could already feel his headache ebbing and his stomach beginning to settle. And he was hungry. Taking the plate, he began to munch thoughtfully.
"Maybe it terrifies me a little," he said, his mouth full of food. He swallowed, continuing to think on it. "I mean, there's all these rules I suddenly have to follow. And I don't… I don't really understand any of them…"
"Harry, it's really not that bad. Besides, it's just me. It should make things easier. God knows, with everything I've already put up from you, you could stand to relax a little. And, anyway, didn't you sort of go through this last year with Cho?"
Harry started choking and his eye twitched. "I'm not sure if you noticed," he hissed, "but that didn't really end on the best of terms."
"Well, she still shoots you these glances every now and again, like it's only a matter of time before she gets you back."
Harry, who had never sensed any such thing from Cho, just gave her a look. It took him two more mouthfuls of food before he realized. Hermione was jealous. The feeling made him feel slightly gleeful despite himself.
Trying to sound interested he said, "Really? She still going out with that bloke What's His Name?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "It's not going to work, Harry."
"What's not going to work?" he asked, between mouthfuls.
"Making me think that you still like Cho. Because I know you don't." Hermione let it hang in the air for a few seconds before she added, more hesitantly, "Right?"
Harry grinned. "Well, since I'm so 'terrified' of relationships…"
Hermione poked him with her wand. "Harry!"
He just smiled innocently, feeling happier than he had all day. "It's okay, Hermione. I adore you, too."
They stared at each other stupidly for a few moments before Harry reminded himself why they had gotten into this situation to begin with. Clearing his throat, he shifted his eyes to the floor and muttered, "Have you talked to Ron?"
"No," she paused, her lips drawing into a tight line. "And I don't think it was very decent of you to run off on me like that."
He continued staring at the floor, trying desperately to come up with some justifiable excuse. He couldn't find one. "I'm sorry."
She sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter now. I didn't even look for him very long in all honesty. And maybe it would've been better to have left and let the storm pass. People weren't particularly nice about… things."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
She laughed uncomfortably. "You know, it's you, so people are bound to say things."
Harry looked at her, suddenly worried. "What did they say?"
Hermione stared down at her lap. "Harmless things mostly. A lot of people just wanted to acknowledge it and give us their best." She chewed her lip and tried to say nonchalantly. "Others would say I was too ugly, or not brave enough, or too mean to deserve you… however, I suspect that it's really just the beginning. One person, though, accused me of me of putting you under a love spell, since that would be the only way you would ever look twice."
"WHAT?" he yelped, jumping up and staring around the room suspiciously. "Who said that? Was it Malfoy? I'll rip his head off, I'll show him what looking twice really means!"
Hermione tugged on his robes. "Harry, it doesn't matter. It's just words."
His hands were shaking. He'd never even considered what kind of an impact his unwanted fame would have upon Hermione. "You don't deserve that," he said softly.
"I know, but…. Oh, I wish that you would just sit and talk to me rather than gallantly trotting off to enact revenge on anyone who's ever said anything mean to me. I mean, it's sweet and everything, Harry, but I don't really care all that much about what people say. So just…" she tugged on his robes again. "Sit down."
He sat, reluctantly. "Well, none of it's true!" he said in a loud voice. Everyone who wasn't already watching them turned their heads curiously. He gathered her hands and said in a lower voice, "You are brave, you do deserve me, you are not ugly, and you most certainly do not have to put a spell on me to make me like you! You're perfect!"
To Harry's complete and utter horror, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. He just said something good, why was it making her cry?"
"Erm, I'm sorry," he backpedaled. "I can, uh, take it back if you want."
She sniffled and threw her arms around his neck. "Don't take it back, Harry. That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
Suddenly very distracted by having her in his arms, he tried to concentrate. "Yeah… um… okay."
Harry had a momentary flash of panic when he was worried she was going to start crying all over him again, but she pulled away, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. He missed her closeness, but suddenly felt self-conscious with so many eyes in the Gryffindor common room peering at them.
Then someone started clapping. The clapping was slowly followed by a loud whistle, followed by more clapping. Someone hollered out, "Way to go Harry!" More clapping ensued, followed by cheers and whistles. "Congratulations Hermione and Harry!" people called out. Soon the entire common room was alive with people standing up and cheering for them.
Harry shrank as down in his chair as far as he could, wanting desperately to disappear. What had he been thinking? Why had he left his dorm where he was all alone and safe and no one was staring at him and Hermione because… his stomach turned over… they were… they were….
"So what does it feel like to have a real girlfriend, Harry?" Someone, it sounded suspiciously like Dean Thomas, cried.
Harry, if possible, tried to shrink down even farther. Hermione didn't appear to notice, still flushed about his last compliment, and looking a little bit like she was enjoying the attention. Well, that was all fine and good. Harry was glad she was happy, but the last thing he needed was to give people another excuse to talk about him.
His head was pounding and his dinner felt suspiciously close to being yacked up all over the common room floor. Harry almost felt slightly justified, it would serve everyone right to have him barf all over them!
Finally Hermione noticed his discomfort and frowned at him. "Honestly, Harry, it's not like you're going to die or anything."
Harry was pretty sure his pounding head would disagree. "Well, that makes me feel better. Thanks."
The cheering finally died down and people turned back to what they'd been doing. Hermione still looked annoyed. "Harry, this is never going to work if you feel like running every time someone mentions that we're together!"
The ease at which she said the word 'together' nearly made him start choking. He took a deep breath and tried to sit up a little straighter. "I just wish that we could have kept it secret for a little longer."
"Well, we can't. Things are what they are and we'll deal with it."
"But it's not really fair, you know!" he burst out. "They know everything about me! I'm known all over the wizarding community! But this… this isn't fair, Hermione! This is private and people are acting as though…"
"As though it's the greatest thing since you last faced Voldermort?"
Harry nodded miserably.
Hermione sighed, but looked a little more sympathetic. "Look, it's not going to be easy. And I know… I can't understand what it feels like to be you. But you have to stop treating me like I don't understand what it feels like to be in this relationship. People are talking about me too, Harry. And most of it isn't exactly flattering." She fiddled with her books, stacking them on top of each other and added, more quietly. "But at this point, I care more about what Ron thinks than what anyone else does."
Harry felt himself grow cold at the mention of his friend's name. He was forced to admit that she was right. As usual. Ron was more important. He nodded grimly.
"Will you try and talk to him tonight?"
Harry nodded again.
Hermione stood up, gathering up her books. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." She paused before going up to the girls' dorms, clearly looking like she wanted to say something else.
Harry gave her an out. "I'm not that freaked out, you know."
Hermione smiled warmly. "You almost sound convinced. But… I need to know, Harry." She swallowed, beginning to look a little tearful again. Harry felt tingles of fear in his stomach. "Before this goes any further… I need to know. Are you sure, is this… what you want?"
Harry was quiet, contemplating her words. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her. But it looked like he'd hurt either way, as her boyfriend or as just her friend. But she asked him what he wanted. And Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to explain that he did want to be with her… it just made him slightly queasy to think about it, was all.
Instead of answering, he stood up, put his hands on her shoulders and, despite everyone in the loud common room, he kissed her. He pulled quickly away, his face burning, but hoping that she got the message.
She had. Her upper lip quivered, her eyes filling up with unshed tears, and she threw herself into his arms, gripping him around the neck. "Oh I'm so glad!" she whispered passionately. "I was so afraid… when you didn't answer… it will be okay, Harry… I know it will… because we're together… and you're stupid, but you care about me… and it's… it's okay…" She pressed her face against his chest, seemingly content on just staying in his arms.
Harry, instead of feeling panicky, instead felt sort of soothed to have her so close to him. She pressed her ear against his heart and let out a tiny sight of contentment. Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead, deciding, once again, that maybe being a boyfriend wasn't too difficult, after all.
She pulled away, her eyes still shinning. "Good night."
He grinned, feeling slightly giddy. "Sleep well."
She squeezed his hand before gathering up her stuff and heading off. Harry watched her go, smiling despite himself. It really wasn't going to be so hard, after all…
"Hey Harry! Hermione, hmm? Gotta say, always thought she'd end up with Ron in the end, but I guess you got there first."
Harry was pulled out of his stupor by Dean Thomas who'd appeared at his elbow. Harry scowled. "Shut up."
"Oh, Hermione…" he said in a high, pitched voice. "You're so perfect and wonderful!"
Seamus Finnagan, overhearing, jumped in. "Oh, Harry! That was the most wonderfulest, beautifulest thing anyone's ever said to me!"
"SHUT UP!" Harry yelled.
Seamus and Dean dissolved into a fit of laughter so hard that they were rolling around on the floor, kicking and punching wildly. "Oh God…" Seamus gasped out between punctuated spurts of laughter. "Your face…."
"It was beautiful…" Dean added, continuing to thump the floor with his fist.
Harry had had more than enough. Shooting them a look that could melt glass, he went back up to his dorm room.
Alone at last, he let out a deep breath, sinking down onto his four poster bed. He heard a scuffle and looked up sharply, eyes alerting to him to the fact that he wasn't quite as alone as he'd hoped. Neville, who appeared to have stayed in the room after delivering Hermione's message, was staring bleakly out the window, resting his head on his hands. He let out a loud sigh when he saw Harry staring at him.
"Hi Harry…" he said in a melancholy voice.
Harry, who felt like he'd dealt with enough upset people in one afternoon, didn't quite know what to say. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Erm, something bothering you?"
Neville cast him a look, as if trying to decide whether or not he was a suitable candidate to talk to. "I guess."
Harry waited, but Neville didn't seem any more forthcoming. "Is there… is there something you'd like to talk about?"
Neville sighed and nodded. "But I don't really think that you'd be the best person to talk to about it."
"Oh."
"It's about Hermione," Neville explained.
Harry, still utterly confused, repeated, "Oh." Then something finally clicked in his head, and he sat up quickly. "You… you… you…" Harry could barely get the words out. "You… you… like her… don't you?"
Neville nodded miserably again. "And now that she's going out with you, I'll never have a shot."
Harry suddenly found himself wishing he was still in the common room being tormented by Dean and Seamus. "You might still have a shot," Harry said, trying to sound comforting. "I mean, Hermione doesn't take a lot of stuff from most people and I don't know if you've noticed but… I haven't been, erm, exactly, that nice to her since we started going… out," he finished, uncomfortably.
Neville released another long, sad sigh. "Yeah, I guess." Not looking at all convinced, he continued to stare out the window. "You could have anyone Harry, why did it have to be Hermione?"
Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut.
Neville looked glum. "I don't mean it that way. It's just… girls love you, Harry. Even Hermione. And I know that she's never really noticed me, but she's always been really wonderful when I needed help and sometimes I thought that…" Neville trailed off, suddenly looking fearful. "Not that I would ever do anything to stop what you have with her…"
Harry got up and came to stand next to him. "She's really quite a handful," he said, quite truthfully. "Cries a lot, sort of sensitive about everything, you know? She's not that great."
"Yes, she is," Neville replied stubbornly.
Harry felt a sort of hollow feeling creep into his stomach. "Neville," he said desperately. "I'm sorry, I never wanted to hurt anyone. This sort of just happened…"
Neville gave a small smile. "Thanks for trying, Harry, it means a lot. Besides, if it wasn't you, it would have been Ron."
Harry's insides tightened up. "Why do people keep saying that?"
"Well, you know. He's always sort of liked her."
Harry's eyes widened with surprise. "He… he has?"
Neville looked unsettled. "I thought you knew. I mean, he's never said anything outright, but you spend so much time with the two of them that I thought that…"
"I would have noticed something like that?" Harry said hollowly. "Yeah, I would have thought so, too."
"I'm probably wrong," Neville said quickly. "I'm probably just imagining things, I do that a lot. Besides, you would know better than anyone."
Harry nodded, but his guilt over Ron returned with a vengeance. He tried to smile reassuringly. "Yeah, I would know."
Neville yawned, and finally turned to look Harry in the eye. "Is she very happy with you?"
"I don't… I don't really know…." Harry's stomach tightened up, reminding him painfully that Hermione had cried more in the last couple of days than in the last five years that he'd known her.
Neville stretched sleepily and climbed into bed. "Well, you better make her happy. I learned a lot of new tricks in DA last year."
Harry smiled despite himself. "You could take me anytime, Neville."
Neville nodded and rolled over, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Harry wished that it was that easy for him. Crawling into his own bed, he pretended to be asleep when Seamus and Dean came up, not wanting to witness any more of their highly unamusing impressions. When he heard their breathing slow and the sound of snoring fill the room, Harry sat up, sitting cross-legged on his bed and watching the door.
Vaguely he wondered where Ron was and how he was managing to get around the castle without being caught. He'd had far too many near disasters in the past, even with the invisibility cloak, to think Ron was having an easy time staying hidden.
It was during his wait that Harry realized, with a sinking stomach, that he hadn't done any of his homework. Resigning himself to the fact that he'd have to get up extra early the next morning, he checked the clock, surprised to find that it was nearing midnight. He yawned, willing his eyes to stay open. He had to talk to Ron. It didn't matter how tired he was, or how heavy his eyelids felt, or how much he wanted to roll over, close his eyes, and put it all away.
Just when his cement eyelids closed, he heard a door swing and shut. Jerking himself awake, he saw Ron's figure moving around in the darkness, putting on his pajamas. Harry shifted, and Ron froze, one leg in his pajama bottoms. Harry held his breath as Ron listened carefully into the darkness of the room. Shrugging it off, Ron finished changing, and went to get into bed.
Harry slid off his bed, and came to stand behind him. "Ron!" he whispered.
Ron jumped about five feet off the ground, giving out a small yelp as he did so. Whirling around, he quickly recognized the outline of Harry's body in the darkened room. His body going ridged, Ron turned back around and climbed into bed without acknowledging him.
"Ron…" Harry whispered frantically. "We need to talk."
In response, Ron rolled over, facing the wall.
"C'mon, Ron," he pleaded. "I know that you're hurt, but we can work it out… just… look… it's not what you think."
Finally, Ron answered. "Oh, it's not, is it?" he said, in a deathly, calm whisper. "I think that you and Hermione got together. But if that's not it, by all means, enlighten me."
Harry felt a slight edge of panic. "Okay, maybe it is what you think. But that doesn't mean anything, it doesn't mean that our friendship is any different, you're still our best friend Ron, and we've been worried all day about what you must be thinking…"
Ron took his pillow and hugged it to his ear, clearly intent on ignoring him.
Harry kicked one of the legs of the bed in frustration. Ron didn't so much as flinch. Neville rolled over and let out a small snort. Harry, not wanting to wake any of the others, climbed into his own bed, realizing that nothing was anywhere close to solved. Ron wouldn't talk to him. Hermione was suddenly his girlfriend. And Neville was wandering around looking like someone had murdered his puppy.