Unofficial Portkey Archive

Act II: Unwell

All day staring at the ceiling,
Makin' friends with shadows on my wall.
All night hearing voices telling me
that I should get some sleep,
because tomorrow might be good for something.
Hold on... Feeling like I'm headed for a...
breakdown... and I don't know why.

-- From "Unwell" by Matchbox 20.

They both jumped off their chairs as they heard the telephone ring. Ron, as he had the longest legs, got there first. "Where the bloody hell are you?!" he exclaimed, without bothering to check who was on the other side of the phone line.

He heard a gasp and then the response: "In my bloody house, you rude dunderhead!"

Ron flinched. "Sorry, Gin. I thought you were Hermione." He turned to see Harry roll his eyes, move a hand through his hair and go back to sit in front of the door. "What is it?"

"I need to tell you something, it's important... wait. Hermione's not there? Did something happen to her?"

He sighed. "We don't know. She hasn't come back, and she hasn't called us."

Ginny tried to sound calming, but couldn't keep the worry out of her voice. "I'm sure she's fine. Probably got held back at the bookstore. She'll be there soon." Clearing her throat, she started the conversation she had originally wanted to have with her brother. "Ron, you will not believe who came by my office yesterday--"

But Ron couldn't hear what Ginny had to say as Harry jumped off his chair again and with an air of determination walked towards the door. "I'm going to look for her," he said, and Ron had to cut short his conversation with his sister.

"I can't talk now, Gin. Harry's gone to get her and someone's gotta be his voice of reason now that Hermione's not here. I'll call you back."

"No, Ron, hear me out--" But it was no use. He had already hung up.

He had let go of her torso and was now holding her jaw painfully. It hurt, but at this point she was more angry and confused than scared.

"What are you doing here?!" she spat at him, with difficulty. "You're not supposed to be here! You can't!"

She was flailing her arms around, trying to get out of his grasp. He covered her mouth with his hand and shoved her roughly against a wall, causing her to groan and then glare at him, pulling at his hold. "I told you to shut up!" he exclaimed, completely unfazed by her stare; matching it, even. To his displeasure she didn't stop moving, or quit her muffled yelling, so he had to lean into her ear to get his message across. "Listen to me," he whispered, but still the sound was rough and hurried. "Bloody listen to me! You're going to tell Potter--" Hermione stopped struggling when she heard her friend's name, and quieted down. Of course he had come to do something to Harry...

"Tell Potter he must go back."

Her eyes widened. Of all the things she'd been expecting him to say, that was definitely not one. Insults, perhaps; threats, for sure... but not that.

He quickly let go of her and ran off, but she was still too stunned to react. She later concluded that there would have been no point in going after him anyway, he could get away easily. So she stood there for a while, trying to control her heartbeat, his last words reverberating in her mind.

She quickly decided to go back home, not quite sure of what she would tell her two best friends, but simply wanting to get out of the darkness as fast as she could. She hugged herself and hurried down the sidewalk.

She hadn't even walked two blocks, when she heard her name being called. She looked around, to make sure that it wasn't him coming back, but when she finally figured who had called her, she found herself wrapped tightly in someone's arms.

"Thank the heavens! Are you okay?" Ron had gotten to her first, if only because he had longer legs. Harry was beside them half a second later, prying her from Ron's arms and hugging her himself without giving her a moment to breathe.

Ron's mood seemingly shifted then, and he started yelling at her, much like she had seen his mother do to him when he got into trouble, or was it Hermione herself who had rubbed off on him, with her constant nagging during their almost thirteen years of friendship? "What the hell were you thinking, Hermione?! Do you know what time it is?! You know you should go directly from the bookstore to our flat, not stay dallying around some dark alley?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?! We were worried sick about you, you know?!"

She was going to explain, but Ron's tirade went on and she couldn't get a word in edgewise. Then again, her face was pressed to Harry's neck and he held her there, so she couldn't really say anything. He kept moving his hands up to her face, fingers through her hair, down her back or up her arms, almost like he was caressing her; however, his touch was steady and with enough pressure that she would guess he was just checking if she was hurt anywhere. When he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her tightly to him, she was sure. "Don't ever do that to me again," he whispered in her ear, his voice shaking with the emphasis he put on his words.

Harry had a couple of choice words to say to her as well, and Hermione briefly wondered if this is how they felt when she openly worried about them and then nagged them to the ground about every little thing. Ron even mentioned it ("Hah! It's like payback. But don't make it a habit, now"), but really, she couldn't be annoyed at them. Not when she still had his words going around in her mind.

Soon enough they had brought her back to their flat, and the adrenaline rush seemed to be winding down. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Ron threw an arm around her shoulder and grinned. "Bet it feels good being home, huh?" She nodded distractedly and went to sit on the couch, putting her face in her hands. She had a terrible headache, and the suspicion that it was only going to get worse.

She heard her two friends go about their business again as she thought about how to tell them. Finally she took a deep breath and looked up. Ron had gone into the kitchen, and Harry sat in front of his computer again, to finish the work on the database.

"I just saw Draco Malfoy."

Harry's head snapped back towards her and he gave her a confused and disbelieving look. A crash was heard from the kitchen almost at the same time.

"That's not possible."

"WHAT!"

Harry got up from his seat and sat beside her. "He can't be here...! Are you sure, Hermione?" From his tone she could tell that he was trying to figure out how it was possible; Hermione wouldn't joke about something like this, after all. Hermione nodded at him as she heard Ron come out of the kitchen. He obviously hadn't bothered to pick up whatever it was he had broken.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?!" Ron walked up to her, eyes blazing. Once he heard the name, a switch went off in his head and he didn't even entertain the idea that Hermione could be mistaken. "That bastard didn't touch you?! I swear to God, if he touched one hair on your head, Hermione...!"

"Ron, it's fine! I'm fine," she assured him, grabbing his clenched fists with enough strength to bring his indignation down. It seemed to work, and she stared at both her boys for a heartbeat. Did she really want to tell them about this? It would complicate everything, that was for sure. But she couldn't just lie to them... Harry was muttering something and Ron was looking at her expectantly. They knew her too well, they'd immediately see that she was hiding something.

"He had a message for you, Harry," she looked at her dark-haired friend straight in the eye. "He said you must go back."

Both boys tensed up immediately, Ron more in apprehension than anything else. Harry's expression went dark that very moment. He looked down, with his best friends' gazes roaming over the shadows on his face. Everything went completely quiet, for the longest time. Ron and Hermione let him be... waiting. It was all up to him. He would always have the last word.

"No."

He stood up, stood there for half a second, then turned around and locked himself in his room. His friends watched him go, not one glance spared towards one another. Ron mutely went back to the kitchen to pick up the pieces of broken glass. Hermione laid down on the couch, closing her eyes, wishing her headache away.

And that was it.

As he waited for the last function script of the database he was working on to compile and run, he took a look at the time, and discovered that he'd been 23 years old for the last thirteen minutes.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His head hurt. Was he supposed to feel any different? The blur that had become his monitor couldn't give him an answer. The room was dark and quiet, and he was not comfortable in the position he was sitting. Ron and Hermione had gone to bed, saying they had stuff to do at work early. And Harry was left to start his twenty-fourth year of life with a weary disposition.

As much as people thought he was an angsty character, he was actually feeling more angry than anything. He'd been irritable all week, snapping at everybody, to the point that his co-workers had all but pushed him out the door on Wednesday, and told him to work exclusively from home until he was finished with this latest project. Ron and Hermione were walking on eggshells around him, with awkward silences galore, though he did know they were planning something to cheer him up on his birthday (he'd believe it of Hermione, but the last time Ron had gone to work on a Sunday as he claimed he would today, it was because a friend of his from work had promised to buy him lunch).

He couldn't help it, though. He'd thought he'd left all of it behind; he didn't want anything to do with it, he thought he'd finally be able to have a normal life... he didn't need any of it, all he needed was his friends and a purpose and he had all of that here. He had no desire to go back there, and be miserable. Why did that message come? Why now, when things were finally looking up? When the whole mess had happened, he'd swore to himself never to think about it again, and now he was forced to remember it, and he hated that. And it wasn't like he could do it anyway, go back, even if he had wanted to; it was just impossible. And it was no incentive that the request had come from Malfoy; Harry would sooner stick his hand into a pool full of piranhas than do anything that slimy git told him to. He shouldn't even have come anywhere near them, Malfoy... yet there he was, again trying to goad Harry into something that he had no desire whatsoever to do. Well, he wouldn't get the better of him, not at all. Harry was staying put.

His jaw set tightly, he all but slammed a CD into his laser drive. He really had to stop going around the whole thing, because he didn't want to hurt his friends in any way when they put whatever birthday plans they had in action today. It was bad enough that he'd have to fake being perfectly fine while he was really boiling inside. They had some sort of unspoken pact about it. Ron had seemed perfectly fine with forgetting the message ever came, but Harry still caught him looking at him and Hermione from time to time, like expecting someone to bring it up and being prepared to divert that someone from the topic as quickly as he could. Hermione had been on the edge of saying something to him more than once, but she always caught herself before the shaky words could come out of her mouth, like she was expecting him to blow up in her face at the slightest sound. Now that he thought about it, he'd seen Ron giving Hermione 'Don't!' looks once or twice. He didn't blame them, it wouldn't be the first time he took out his frustrations on them, and he wanted to forget about this so badly that he wouldn't feel guilty at all for giving them the silent treatment if they ever came out with it.

He was glad they hadn't mentioned it, though. It did help. But still, he didn't feel much better and by now the database was done, so he wouldn't be able to submerge himself in his work for a while. He had to go by his office tomorrow to drop off the CD and that was it: no more work, no more distraction. But he just wanted to forget back there ever existed.

He needed something quick.

Hermione tried to be "stealthy" as she opened the door just a bit after noon; she imagined Ron had somehow kept Harry in his room so they could surprise him with amusement park tickets. However, it was for naught: Ron was sitting in the living room fiddling with their DVR, which he still couldn't figure out. And Harry himself was slung over the couch, one arm covering his eyes as if in pain.

"What's going on?" she asked, leaving her bag by the door. "Aren't you two supposed to be..." she trailed off, sharing a significant look with Ron, but not wanting to give the secret away.

Ron shrugged, more interested in pressing buttons in the recorder. "We were, until this git here decided to start the party without us."

Hermione frowned. What did that mean? She moved closer to Harry, inspecting him closely, as a doctor would. She saw and heard that he was groaning very lightly. "Is he... drunk?!"

Ron nodded his head enthusiastically. "Yep! Completely pissed. Tried to watch one of the friendly matches on the telly a while ago and he kept squinting at it and asking me what happened to their brooms." His eyebrows rose so high as he emphasized that last word that they were lost under his fringe and he conveyed through his stare the point he was trying to make: either there was something really wrong, or his friend had gone completely barmy.

Hermione frowned reproachfully at Harry, even though he couldn't see her. "It's barely noon."

Ron shrugged again, and gave her somewhat of a sheepish smile. "Yes, well, he's your problem now. I was just waiting for you to get here so I could go and get something to eat," he told her, getting up from his seat and stretching a bit. "You want anything?"

She nodded, moving closer to Harry and poking him without any mercy. "Can you get me a caffè macchiato? I didn't have any coffee this morning." Harry groaned louder at her treatment. "And stop by the pharmacist's to buy some aspirin. There's none left."

As Ron left she prodded Harry again, getting the same response. "Well, sorry, birthday boy, but you brought this upon yourself. Now scoot over, I want to put my legs up."

Harry whined and whined but moved anyway. Hermione occupied the side of the couch he'd vacated and promptly stretched her legs up on the coffee table; then she turned to take a look at his face, but didn't have time to move further as he was already leaning towards her. To her surprise, he resumed the position he'd been in, only this time his head rested on her lap and his arm lay on the arm of the couch, instead of over his face.

He'd caught her off-base, certainly. Harry had never been a touchy-feely person; in fact, Ron wasn't either. They usually froze whenever she gave them any type of affectionate physical contact. She didn't get it at first, and it frustrated her a bit, but with time she just found it amusing, how it seemed like they just hadn't grown out of the "girls have cooties" phase around her. Not that she'd ever tell them that-- they would blow a gasket from that affront to their masculinity-- but she did think it whenever she hugged Ron and he started squirming like she was Molly Weasley the second, embarrassing him in front of his schoolmates; or when Harry froze like a deer in the headlights if they touched in any way that wasn't due to a life-threatening situation. That's why she was careful to keep physical contact to a minimum, she didn't want to send them running to the hills. Bad enough that they couldn't figure her out because she thought like a girl, imagine if she started acting like one all the time! She'd always feel a little offended, perhaps even insecure, due to that, but she'd learned that in a way she was the same-- boys will be boys, they were from Mars and she was from Venus, but all the distance didn't matter because she loved them to death anyway.

That's why she knew they'd really been terrified when that... encounter occurred. Malfoy had turned their relative calm around in a second that night, it seemed. The work of an adrenaline rush worked wonders for breaking down the barriers of the ego. And Harry laying his head on her lap was an unprecedented event. But then again, he very rarely drank, too.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, noting that his eyes were a bit glazed over.

"Th'room's spinnin'..." he muttered, looking straight at her, and straight past her as well. He didn't have his glasses on and that, plus the alcohol, made her think that he was probably seeing her as a big, bushy-haired blur.

"Yes, impairment of equilibrioception is a common effect of intoxication," she replied in her old "know-it-all" tone, which made Harry cringe. She pushed his hair out of his eyes, noticing that he was sweating. She sighed. "Whatever made you think this was a good idea, Harry?"

He didn't reply, just closed his eyes and moved his head to the side, so she drew her hand back. He might have murmured something but she didn't quite catch it. They both stayed in silence for a while, until Hermione turned on the telly. There was a football game on, and Ron had probably been trying to record it with the DVR, so she might as well have it on in the background so she could tell him the result.

"'M'never goin' back," he said after a while, startling her. She'd thought he was asleep. She looked down to see he was shaking his head, but he stopped after a couple of times; it surely made him even dizzier. He opened his eyes, more focused this time, and looked at her. "Not 'fter what they... 'm jus' not. We're fine, we don' need 'em. We're gooood here, we're 'appy. 'N I don' care what tha' slimy bastard says, 'e's settin' us up, I don' trust 'im an'm n'doin' anythin' that came from 'im..."

Hermione frowned at him as he started playing with a curl of her hair, stretching and releasing it like a spring. She and Ron had figured that Malfoy's visit was what was weighing in Harry's mind that week, but they'd thought it was more the fact that Malfoy had ambushed her than anything else. They hadn't really thought that he'd given any thought to Malfoy's words other than to dismiss them immediately. "Harry, you--"

"No, 'rmione, 'e should'a kept 'is mouth shhhut. I di'n need t'... I didn' wan't' hear that... I didn' wan' think 'bout it, 't hurts... ev'ry time I think 'bout it, I hurt... 'cause I wan' go back, so badly wan' go back, 'rmione... b't I won't. They don' want me, 'rmione, they don' want me..." He hid his head in Hermione's torso, his nose pressed against her belly, muffling his already slurred words. "Malfoy's messin' us up, 's true. An' they don' des'rve us anyway. Bast'rds. We're bett'r 'ff alone, ar'n' we? We stayin' 'ere, 'cause 'm right, I know 'm right. An' Ron'll second me in this... an' you... I won' letcha convin... convincince me tha' it migh' be better if I go back... nope, we're stayin', you're stayin' righ' 'ere, w'me..."

And the surprises continued. Hermione knew that even if they'd been friends for well over a decade, she wasn't, and would never be, the one either of the boys went to when they needed to talk feelings. There were four reasons for that, or so she'd gathered over the years: first, blokes just don't talk about their feelings; it's just not manly. It didn't do to have a warm and fuzzy conversation when the whole point was to be rugged and virile, or whatever that meant. Second, they were deathly afraid that she'd point out there was another side to the coin when they were inexorably convinced that there was no way anybody else could think differently than they did. Never mind that she mostly did it for their own good, this still tended to make them mad. Third, telling her stuff usually ended up with them spending countless hours reading, which was not their idea of fun. And fourth, despite their fourteen-years-long friendship, Ron still held on to his belief that she was mental; and Harry, while he was nicer about it, tended to side with Ron most of the time.

So she definitely had not been expecting any deep confessions from Harry. The boys only really went to her when they had a puzzle to solve that they couldn't figure out. And what's more, Harry just wasn't an open person. He generally preferred to bottle his feelings inside until they quite literally blew up. And while she believed that was very unhealthy, there was no way to break him of the habit... it was due to the way he was raised; if she had to apply her knowledge to his case, she would conclude that he was afraid people would think he was weak, strange or insufficient in some way and would decide to stay away from him. It broke her heart, because he'd gone through such psychological abuse in the most crucial stage of his life, he'd suffered so much and had to do it alone, and he still felt that he had to deal with everything alone. So he could only tell her these things when he was extremely drunk.

"Harry, have you-- been thinking about this all week? Ron and I have been worr--"

"But it do'sn' matter 'cause, y'know, I don' wann' talk 'bout it..."

She couldn't help but chuckle, looking down at his unkempt mop of hair as he rested against her. At least he wouldn't have to struggle to deny ever having this conversation with her, because he just wouldn't remember it at all.

He mumbled that he was sleepy, and she decided to take up the football match again. She wondered what was taking Ron so long.

"Oy, 'rmione...?"

"Hmm?" she looked down to see that he had rejoined the land of the living. He looked rather adorable, she thought, his hazy gaze framed by furrowed brows, like he was genuinely confused about some grand mystery.

"How come you an' I never happen'd...?"

It took her a few seconds to understand what he meant. And when she did, she had to admit, it made her pause. She had the standard reply on the tip of her tongue, the one she gave everybody who wondered how she could be close friends with a guy and not have any sort of tension between them. She wanted to tell him how the very notion was ridiculous. But then it slashed her mind that it was Harry who had asked that question. Harry, who was the party involved and who she'd thought had never given any passing thought to that crazy idea. Their relationship as it was... it was just the way it was, they were best friends and it was inconceivable for them to look at each other in any other way. Was he thinking about it...? The thought had never really crossed her mind.

But... why hadn't she ever thought about it?

It wasn't as if Harry disgusted her in anyway. He didn't have any kind of infectious disease she needed to get away from or anything. They were not incompatible. They were very good friends, they thought alike in most cases, and they cared for each other very much. He was a wonderful person, easily the best person she knew, save perhaps for her own father. He was sweet, funny, and he gave his all for the people he loved. He was incredibly brave. He had the most gorgeous smile she had ever seen, it made her melt in a second. Had a nasty temper at times, and could be a bit single-minded, but she could deal with it. He tended to look at the forest, and not the trees. He got distracted easily and didn't like doing homework, but she didn't have to worry about that anymore because they were out of school. He had an unyielding sense of honor, but if his loved ones were in danger, the ends justified the means. He was a natural leader, and inspired such confidence in others as well. He was stubborn as a mule, but he put as much effort into his every enterprise. He was a bit melodramatic, and oftentimes thought everything was about him, but that's what she was at his side for, to bring him back to reality. And he came with a lot of baggage, but that only made her care about him even more. It made her want to fix him.

And if she had to be truthful about it, after being best friends with Harry and Ron for so long, she'd developed a bit of a crush on both of them. Really early, she began, unconsciously, thinking of both of them as her boys. That possessiveness came out of her at very random times, like making her feel a bit jealous of their girlfriends or making her react strongly when she felt they could get hurt in any way. They were certainly attractive men, and great to be with. But it didn't have anything to do with that, she'd just always thought it was normal to feel a little flutter in her stomach when she thought about her green-eyed friend. She spent so much time with him-- and Ron-- and they'd gone through so much together, that it was only natural.

Then again, she and Ron had their Thing... Ron, who was the sweetest man she had ever known, who tried so hard to impress everyone, to make a name of himself. Ron, who was loud and larger than life, always ready for a good one-liner and who could easily light up every situation. He had a bit of an inferiority complex, grew resentful easily and caved under stage fright, but he was the most loyal friend any person could ever ask for. He dug up every excuse in the book to get out of doing chores, and when he was hungry, everything else was unimportant, but he was the quickest to defend her honor if needed. It took him an eternity to finally figure out that she was female, but she didn't hold any grudges against him for that. He felt everything intensely; if he loved you, he would do so very strongly, but he was terribly embarrassed to say it. If he hated you, that was it for life, and nothing anyone said or did could change it. And he drove her up the walls most of the time, but she couldn't ever live without him. Their relationship was never clearly defined, but they'd made it work, they'd been very happy, even if they still bickered constantly, and he still made her cry because he suffered from chronic foot-in-mouth disease, and they couldn't understand each other because he was an insensitive prat and she was a bloody girl, and that was just the way they worked.

It had been good while it lasted, until they realized there just wasn't any difference. Apart from the newfound physical intimacy, they were still Ron and Hermione, best friends. It was the way they were supposed to be. She knew that now, because they had tried something different, and it turned out to be just the same. Her feelings had not faded, she still loved him every bit as she did at the beginning, as she did when they were together. She just realized now that it wasn't what that kind of love was supposed to be.

Was that the same thing that had happened with Harry? Had the way things turned out with Ron incapacitated her from checking the possibility of her and Harry?

It made her feel a little embarrassed, actually. Logical, intellectual Hermione, who prided herself in seeing things from every angle, had left a variable hanging for years.

Harry had been the center of her world for a really long time. He was a soul screaming for help, she couldn't help but focus every minute-- that she wasn't focusing on her studies-- on him. He gave her a true purpose, he made her feel needed. It wasn't like he was her reason for living or anything cheesy like that; she was at all times still very much an individual, and she had her schoolwork, and there was a bit of having fun thrown somewhere in there too, but it was more of a subtle shift: without her realizing it, he had come to lead her priorities, like in the grand scheme of things he was more important than anything else, than her even. At one point she did grow tired of it, maybe a little resentful that her life was always about Harry, and other things started coming first on her list, like her by then obvious relationship with Ron; but the world came crashing quickly on the three of them and they were back to their usual dynamics soon enough. She easily fell back into her role of Harry's right hand girl, building her happiness on his happiness, watching out for him. And maybe, just maybe... she hadn't realized until now just how easy it was to fit in that niche. She'd always chalked it up to maternal instinct on her part, but... was it really? It shouldn't be this easy to choose to dedicate your life completely to one person.

Was this what everybody else saw, was this why they all wondered? Had she been so immersed in her campaign to prove to the world that the relationship between a man and a woman who were this close could be perfectly platonic, that she never noticed?

Harry was the most important person in her life. Not more than Ron, or her parents, just... just different.

She'd never noticed.

She looked down at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing even and one of his arms held her lightly by her waist, like she was a giant teddy bear, or a comfort blanket. His nose tickled her belly and she could feel that soft tremble down her back-- the one she didn't feel with Ron anymore.

Well, this was perfect. He was out cold, he wouldn't remember any of this, and she wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it.

Honestly, the things Harry got her into.

Ron should have known Hermione wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut.

Oh no, because when she got an idea, that one, it was like an itch that she couldn't leave unscratched. How the conversation had gone from dinner plans to Malfoy's message, he didn't know. Silly, too, since Harry had been less moody the past couple of days and Ron had thought they could just skip over the whole thing without much problem; but no, Hermione couldn't let it go and of course, Harry's lid went off and the H-bomb blew up right then and there. And now he was so engrossed in his ranting that Ron couldn't even get a word in edgewise.

"You just HAD to mention it, didn't you?" he muttered. Not that any of them paid him any attention.

"--Why you suddenly trust something that came out of HIS mouth!" Harry stared at her like she had stood up and stabbed him in the heart.

"I don't, I'm just saying that it's fishy, maybe we should look further into it, he must have had a reason to risk it--"

She tried to make him see, but he couldn't. His mind was made up. "Yes, it is! Because there's just no way, and you know it! I don't know why you bring this up now, I thought we'd agreed on this!"

"No, we haven't. We've never discussed--"

"Oh, that's good. Now you're telling me, what, that I forced you into this or something?!"

She gaped at him. "Harry, stop putting words in my mouth, you know very well that's not what I meant--"

The doorbell rang then, and Ron jumped out of his seat like he was on a sinking ship and had just heard the "all men to the lifeboats" alarm. It really shook him whenever Harry and Hermione had an argument, not necessarily because they never fought, because they did: they were at odds more often than people thought, especially when Harry let his righteous anger go to his head and Hermione felt he was being obtuse. No, their arguments rattled him because they were so deep. They always left him feeling a bit gobsmacked, even if he tried his best to take a stand. So he clung to the sound of the doorbell like a lifeline, not even thinking that it was probably not the best time to entertain guests.

His sister's face across the threshold reminded him of it.

"Oh, Gin, listen, now isn't the best time--"

"Sorry, Ron, this is life or death," she told him, the phrase barely discernible under Harry's dulcet tones, and she easily pushed him aside and let herself in. He frowned. Should she be able to do that? He was bigger AND stronger than her. He just stared at her, a bit open-mouthed because she reminded him so much of their mother at the moment, as she walked up to the feuding pair with a resolute stride.

"--Have to accept that maybe we acted a little rashly--"

"--If you want to go back so badly, go! Don't stay on MY account! You're smart, you'll figure something out! Just leave me out of this! I don't want to hear this and I am NOT. GOING. BACK."

"You... might want to rethink that, Harry," Ginny's voice interrupted their already fragmented conversation.

"Oh, for God's--" Harry was about to say something else, but then it seemed like it clicked in his brain that it wasn't Hermione the one who had spoken. He turned to Ginny, still angry, but very confused as to her presence there. Hermione was also looking at her, half relieved that someone seemed to be backing her up, and half curious about where this was coming from. "What? Ginny?"

The three of them looked at her expectantly, but she didn't volunteer any more information, or not immediately, at least. Ron was so intent in hearing an explanation that she didn't even notice that someone else had gotten out of Ginny's car. He only noticed when she walked up to him and greeted him. "Hello, Ronald."

His head whipped around incredibly fast, and his eyes were wide, but she showed no reaction to that. Her expression was every bit as dreamy and nonpresent as it had been the last time he'd seen her, years ago. Her long, disarrayed blond hair hung about her, and she looked as unaffected as if it were perfectly normal for her to have turned up on their doorstep.

"You should close your mouth, Ronald. Certain kinds of mozzies like the human organism so much, they will reproduce in your stomach. That's not a very good thing, see."

There was no way in hell she could be there, standing in front of him. Then again, she wasn't looking much like a hallucination.

author's note--

this goes to prove that my word can't be trusted. i said this would be paused until after i finished all my other fanfics, and the moment inspiration strikes guess what i write? anyway, i hope you liked it. forgive me if it feels a bit rushed, the last three scenes were written in just as many days and that is usually not good for the pace of a fanfic. it's supposed to be that way, however, because i don't expect this to be very long, probably five or six chapters total.

ignore my bringing in freud up there, hermione's psychiatry degree crept up on me. and forgive me if i used too many big words on ron's POV, i was apparently possessed by a dictionary last night.

PMS!harry! recognize him? i'm trying to stick to canon with this one, so i want to get their personalities down as well as i can. and i know, you don't give two flying twits about canon, but hey, i actually liked HBP. so sue me.

it seems i always leave you hanging with a visit from a blonde, grey-eyed person, doesn't it? you all know who this particular visitor is, though, i'm sure of that. this chapter was chock full of clues as to the plot. keep telling me your theories, i love them, and i'll do my best to reply to all of you this time 'round. it'll probably be your last chance, too, because there's a good possibility you might get the whole story of what the hell's going on in the next chapter. i think. i might be wrong, i've had to alter my original plans twice already, due to OotP and HBP being published, so don't take this as a promise. if you liked it, or if you hated it, i don't care, please review!

edited on aug 21st, 2007 to adjust the characters' ages so they will comply with the latest canon, after reading HP&DH. sorry guys, it's not a new chapter but i promise i'm working on it as i type this.