Every Man is Guilty of the Good He Did Not Do

Sex. I've known about it since I walked in on my aunt and uncle. That is a truly appalling sight. From what I had seen I thought it was something I would never like. As naïve as it sounds, I believed that some people enjoyed it and some didn't, and from my first sight of it, I was sure I never would.

Then came sixth year in the Gryffindor dorms. They never really do explain the `brave' also includes bringing your father's stash of porn from home and hoping no house elf would understand what it was; like Seamus did. During the first month of classes no sixth year Gryffindor was able to look any girl in the eyes, excluding me, of course. I found no interest in what they were looking at. I hadn't even taken a look because I was sure I would be one of those people who just didn't like it; why beat a dead hippogriff? So, while girls kept asking me what was wrong with all the guys, I said nothing. I may not have partaken in any of the `spoils,' but I knew enough about male comradery not to rat everyone else out. Of course, over this period of time, and a month after that, Ron had accumulated a knot on the back of his head. Every time we talked to Hermione I had to smack him in the back of the head so that he would look at her head and not…well, below her neck.

At this time, I began to wonder which girls would like it, and which wouldn't. Ginny: yes. Lavender and Parvati: of course. Pansy: hope not! Luna: something told me she would really enjoy it. Then Hermione came and sat down beside me. I began to ask myself whether she would like it or not and I came to a conclusion that she would be like me. She didn't like it all that much when Krum touched her, so maybe. It comforted me to know that I wasn't alone. When I figured that out, I stopped hanging around with Ron so much and started spending most of my time with Hermione. I was happy that while others were so enrapt with who was dating, who had done it, and who had split up because they had done it, I didn't have to pretend to care. Of course the Daily Prophet reported a couple times that we were dating, but I did care, we didn't even talk about it. Ron's voice squeaked a bit, and he asked us up front about it, but we said no, and he believed us.

I began wondering if my parents like it or not. I wondered if they were like me, maybe they had only performed the act to conceive me. But then Ron had to open his big mouth. He had just come back from the boys' loo and handed off Seamus' magazine to him. When everybody left, he came up to my bed and sat on the edge of it.

`You know I think Colin is okay.'

I look up from my Professional Quidditch Teams book and just stared at him.

`What are you bringing him up for?'

He sat there for a moment as if he were trying to find the right words.

`I just say it because he's the only other one in the entire school.' He looked at me pitifully, `Doesn't give you much choice.'

`Choice?' I repeated.

`I wish I was, well not really, but I…I would have like to help you. I mean, first you got Voldemort, then Snape, and school. It's a lot for anyone. I just guess I wish you didn't have to go through it alone.'

I was completely perplexed. I suspected he knew I didn't like `it,' but really, I wasn't the one acting funny.

`Ron, are you going mad? I have no idea what you're talking about.'

`Well, you know…because you're gay.'

`What the fuck is wrong with you?'

His head shot around and he looked at me as if I were the strange one.

`You're not?'

`Of course, not!'

Ron sat silently for a moment, then opened that too big mouth of his again, `You don't have to lie to me, mate.'

I didn't know that blood could boil while someone was trying to do something nice for you. I just walked out of there, not saying a word to Ron, or anyone I passed. I went into an empty classroom and trashed everything in sight. What Ron had said was more or less true: I was alone. Because I didn't want sex or my own Playboy bunny, I was all alone. Just as I was about to wallow in my own self pity, I remembered: Hermione. She would talk to me, or not, but she would understand, we were in the same boat. It was well passed two in the morning and boys couldn't get into the girls' dormitories. Then I had a moment of brilliance. I got on my Firebolt and under my Invisibility Cloak. I flew over some of the four-posters until I came to Hermione. I moved down and put my hand over her mouth. She woke and was scared until she noticed it was me.

`What?'

`Just get dressed,' was all I said and flew out of her dorm.

She met me in the common room and then we went to the Quidditch pitch, where I was sure we wouldn't be bothered.

`I hate Ron,' were my first words to her.

`Is there a reason for this hatred or are you just feeling it at, to see if you like it better than being his friend.'

Her joke was lost on me.

`It's like just because I don't want to stare at nude pictures all day there's something wrong with me.'

She just looked at me.

`I mean, I am working hard, I am one of the only people Voldemort wants to kill, my godfather just died, and just because I don't want to look at every girls' chest that makes me gay.'

`Ron thinks you're gay?'

`Yeah, that's why I hate him,' I answer.

Hermione comforted me, made me feel better, and made me like Ron again. I was such a prick. I was king of the pricks. Of all the pricks in the land of Prickerville, I was their fucking king! Don't understand what I mean? Why don't I explain this not from my point of view, but Hermione's.

* * *

Hermione started her sixth year just like any other, she studied like crazy. Soon she noticed most of the Gryffindor boys looking at every girl's breasts, except hers. At first this made her feel bad; that was until she sat down with Ron and Harry. Every time Ron looked at her breasts Harry would hit Ron to get him to stop. Harry didn't want any of the boys looking at her... self. The thought made her cheeks flush, it was almost... possessive.

Soon after that happened Harry started to spend more time with Hermione, which she felt was a confirmation of what she had hoped for earlier: Harry and her were a couple. Of course Harry had trouble showing his feelings, so she wasn't expecting him to go after her like a lovesick puppy. Besides, she liked the way things were going; little touches stolen at various moments throughout the day. It was as if they were co-conspirators with their own secret world, where only they knew the truth. It was quite perfect. So what if they hadn't kissed yet? It would come in it's own time.

Then the time came when Hermione was sure she was going to get that first kiss, Harry had figured a way into the girls dorms and took her down to the Quidditch pitch. On the way she wondered about things like her breath and if she needed to lick her lips first, but that all rushed away when she realized this was about Ron. Ron, and Harry not wanting anything to do with girls. Hermione didn't know what to make of this at first. In the end she decided it was good to know that Harry wasn't looking at other girls, but he also didn't seem interested in looking at her either. Had she misunderstood the past month? Did Harry tell Ron that the Daily Prophet was wrong because he actually believed it? Hermione quickly shook those thoughts away and focused on helping Harry.

* * *

Prick extraordinaire. That's what I am. Of course at the time I am unaware, and that excuses just about none of my actions. But I digress. Now that I feel better I start to lead Hermione back to the castle and Gryffindor Tower, oblivious that my mere touch is reassuring her of feelings she had previously doubted. I take comfort in our shared solitude, knowing that if I have to be alone, at least I'm alone with her. The next day Ron and I forgave each other; then of course, as it is in my life, the shit hit the fan... again.

Hagrid and Grawp were out on an assignment for the Order and were attacked by a group of Death Eaters. They were missing in action.

It was happening again.

Someone I cared about was leaving me, like my parents did.

Like Sirius did.

I sat alone in the boys' dorm starting to feel anxious, I needed something. No, I needed to feel something, and hate wasn't strong enough. That was when Hermione closed the curtain behind her and sat on my bed with me.

Lucky me.

Unlucky Hermione.

I didn't care if I didn't like it, it was something more, something more than friendship, which wasn't strong enough to fulfill me.

Prick.

I crossed the little space there was between us in a flash; Hermione didn't even have enough time to gasp.

I kissed her hard, bruising her lips and digging my tongue deep into her mouth. It was clumsy; it was the first time I had ever really kissed anyone. It was also pure, white-hot, need. It was the death of my innocence. It was everything; it stopped the nothing from consuming me.

It was the beginning of the end of our friendship.

Remember me, mister prick of the month? You didn't think that a kiss would be enough to satisfy me, did you? Of course not. I wanted all of it, and I didn't even ask.

Hermione gave it up willingly of course, but I didn't even ask.

To tell the truth I think I actually tore her panties off, and entered her without a moment's pause. She was a virgin and I never asked if she was sure, or slowed down, I just went for it. I was lucky that Hermione was a muggle and used tampons, or else I would have hurt her physically. I pushed into her again and again, she would try to move with me, but the rhythm was off, so what did I do? I took my two hands and pushed her hips wherever I wanted them. Once I felt her tighten, what, I don't know, just tighten around me I felt all this tension that I had inside me release. For one moment I felt again.

I liked it.

I felt sick with myself, I liked it.

I didn't know what to do to solve the situation, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I put Hermione, then myself, back into the position we were sitting in before the entire interlude.

'Harry?' she croaked.

Fuck.

My best friend. I just had sex, if you could call it that, with my best friend. She trusted me, and what do I do, I take her the first chance I get. She needs to get better friends.

Of course the thought of a contraceptive only comes to me afterwards, which just demonstrates how stupid I am.

She takes my hand, and rubs it with her own. She then interlaces her fingers and mine, and puts our palms together.

Her simple touch comforts me; we're alone, together.

-->

Of course, the next day confuses me like no other. I go down to breakfast and Hermione is treating me the same as she always would. I begin to get hopeful, that it was a dream and that horrible thing I witnessed from behind my own eyes never happened. We head to Transfiguration and I start feeling better and better. Then in the middle of class, from under the desk, Hermione takes my hand and interlaces her fingers with my own.

Fuck.

It did happen. I wasn't dreaming. I did treat my best friend that badly.

And truth be told, I wanted more.

Is it really that bad when you feel you need to consume, be consumed by, your best friend in ways that could never be labeled as `friendly?' Was it really so bad that her comforting me made me want her in very naughty ways? Wasn't she supposed to give me a lap dance to turn me on, or wear something that wasn't much of anything? Her touch was more `sexy' than any other Playboy centerfold, but why? Why would it attract me so?

Because it meant I was not alone.

I showed her the worst part of me, and here she was sitting right next to me.

Sexy fiend.

Once the class ended I lead her to a broom closet nearby and we snogged the shit out of each other. There was no sex involved because we had class in fifteen minutes.

Hermione had opened a Pandora's box I didn't know was inside me. The only problem was, Pandora's box shut, I don't know if mine can now.

And I was hurting Hermione.

Not physically, but mentally it had to be difficult. One day you're just talking to your best friend and the next millisecond he's jumping your bones.

Of course, at the time, I didn't understand that she thought it was her boyfriend jumping her bones and therefore much less rude.

I don't think I'll ever understand why Hermione ever wanted to be with me after that night. But at that time that wasn't what I was really thinking about. I was more or less thinking about taking refuge within my best friend. How could someone so unaffected by sex just days earlier be so consumed by it? We broke off and I just stared at her, the two of us alone in a broom closet. I sat down on the floor and she sat down too, right by my side.

Is class all that important?

We sat in that closet until the sun no longer hung in the sky. We then went to Gryffindor Tower.

I decided to go visit her in the girls' dorms, and I wasn't doing it to get sex, I just wanted to be with her. She was my drug, and I was completely addicted; I needed a fix. I just needed to see her, to be in the same space as her. I flew over to her bed and sat down at the foot. She shifted, sat up and looked me in the eyes. Without blinking or looking away she grabbed her wand and said, 'Silencio.' She put her wand down, pulled the covers off of herself, then took off her shirt which was the only article of clothing she was wearing.

I remember thinking, 'fuck you, Hermione.' Whether that was 'fuck you for tempting me so,' or 'all I want to do is fuck you' I no longer remembered.

I barely even looked at her naked body, not that it wasn't distracting, but I couldn't tear my eyes off hers. The look of 'come and take everything you want,' was intoxicating.

But I needed to draw this out, I needed this to last longer, I needed more.

Of course it was about what I needed.

Prick.

We kissed, and I knew she expected it to be hard and fast, but I lazily massaged her tongue with my own. We broke apart when I needed to breathe, both of us panting hard.

Then as my tongue entered her mouth I entered her.

I moved slowly, in and out of her, after a while she moved her hips into me whimpering.

But remember, king of the pricks has to make this about himself, so I hold down her hips again. Her nails start to dig deeper and deeper in my back until I can feel her tighten around me, then they scratch me as her entire body ruptures. I finally feel the tightness inside me release, and I feel as if everything is leaving my body and all that is left is J-ello.

I want to stay here forever, I don't want to deal with the world, all I need is this.

How different is that from not even a week ago, where I was sure I could live my entire life without it?

I was one screwed up motherfucker.

I looked up at Hermione, with guilt in my eyes and even though I wasn't expecting anything, I wasn't expecting what I saw. She was smiling at me.

Did I miss something? Wasn't I being a selfish prick earlier? Didn't I deserve a year's worth of detentions with Filch?

She kept eye contact with me and interlaced her fingers with mine. How could such a gesture melt every part of me?

Thinking back on it, what the hell was she thinking? Holding my hand after we just had sex, what the hell was that about? Sex, then hand holding, it was the weirdest combination I had ever known. And yet, for us, it seemed to fit.

Maybe I'm not the only fucked up person in the bed.

* * *

The term was going well considering Hagrid and Grawp were back at Hogwarts, and Hermione and I were screwing each other's brains out. I have to say, we have gotten quite good at it. By just seeing my face Hermione can see what I need and adjusts herself accordingly. No place is sacred or safe from our interludes; the last time was in the Quidditch stands after we almost lost to Slytherin. It's been a week, and I'm dying. I want it so bad, but I made a promise to myself I wouldn't. It happened after our last interlude at the stands after the game, I watched as Hermione pulled back down her skirt, and straightened herself up. It was then I decided, I wouldn't go to her. I wanted to wait until she came to me. I was determined to wait until she needed it so at that time I would give instead of take, and she was taking too fucking long.

She would study, and worry over Ron and me, and talk back to Snape, and drive me crazy wanting her. Most guys would watch her legs or her breasts, talking about how 'supple' whatever was. I didn't, I watched her stick up for Neville, tell Ron off, and know all the answers to McGonagall's questions and it made me want to make her forget her name; make her forget she even had a name.

I was one sick puppy.

I was getting sicker and sicker each and every moment that passed by that I wasn't inside her.

I had a new respect for Hermione, I also hated her guts.

I was wallowing in my own self-pity on my way back from Care of Magical Creatures when I was tackled into an empty classroom. Hermione must have put a dozen locking charms on the door before she turned back to me and began to stalk me like I was her prey.

It was something to be the one who always started everything, but it was also very exciting being the one who was started in on. It made me feel wanted and needed, it made me grin from ear to ear.

Hermione stared at me a moment, then said, 'You jerk, you planned this.'

I let out a deep laugh.

'I have been going crazy for the past week,' her shirt and bra came off as she crossed the room coming closer to me, 'I can't even study for the N.E.W.T.S. properly, all I can think about is locking us in a room for days on end and having my way with you. By the way, you shouldn't be allowed to talk about Defence Against the Dark Arts in public, the entire school almost got a show.'

She pushed me onto the teacher's desk, and straddled my hips. She pressed herself against me and moaned as if she just had a very good piece of chocolate. She just unzipped me, she didn't bother with any clothes or precursor to the act itself, she just pushed me inside her.

She was amazing.

One moment you were sure of her purity, the next, sure she was a vixen. I had spent a lot of time studying Hermione and I came up to one conclusion: she was innocent, her feelings were the innocent part about her. She was the only person who could show me so much just by intertwining her fingers with mine.

And she was making me release like I never had before.

She put her head on my chest and laid there as we both caught our breath. Tears fell onto my shirt, I wrapped my arms around her, comforting her any way I could.

'Pansy said I'd stay an old spinster virgin for the rest of my life.'

So that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

'Why can't I keep you all to myself?' I asked out loud. Of course I never meant to say it aloud, it just came out, which made me question my sanity.

She didn't say a word, so I decided to give her some of her own medicine. I took her hand, and intertwined it with mine. She sobbed a little and held onto me with her remaining hand as if I were a lifeline. Now she knew how it felt to me, maybe she'd understand I really don't want to share her with anyone.

I'm a selfish prick, but we've gone over that.

'I waited for you,' I say, explaining my recent behavior.

'I know.'

She kisses my shirt. We just laid there for the rest of the day and night, two fucked up people locking themselves in an abandoned classroom.

* * *

Of course our unnamed bliss wouldn't last long, it was the story of my life. It was the night Seamus and Neville came bounding into the Gryffindor common room with a case of firewhiskey. Neither would explain how they got them, but no one really cared. I put a large bottle away in my cloak, and watched as my friends started to open up the bottles. It was then that Hermione came back from studying and I sat back and watched the show. Hermione's entire body was tense with anger, but that anger never seemed to reach her eyes. Ron tried to weasel their way out of it, but Hermione would not let up. She finally stomped her way out of the room. I got up and went to follow her, of course.

'I'll try and cool her down, go on, she won't tell McGonagall.' And with that I exited Gryffindor Tower, cloak in my hands.

'Harry.' she whispers and motions for me to follow.

We make it over to the closest abandoned classroom, and I take out the firewhiskey and put it to the side.

'We'll save that for later.'

She laughs and I smile back. I look into her eyes and see that there is just happiness behind them. I realize for the first time we're doing this not because one of us needs it, but that we both want it. What the hell are we doing? Do I really care? No, I just want to be with her, to be inside her, to be wanted by her.

I pin her up against the desk, and it's like the first time, except it's not. The first time I was searching for something, this time, I found it.

Once our pulses are steady again I put my pants on she starts to dress herself.

'Harry, I have something I want to give to you.'

She pulls a chain with a ring on it out of her shirt pocket and puts it around my neck.

'It's a promise ring. I don't know how it's supposed to go, but... it... I... promise myself to you, only you.' She smiled and sat next to me.

'Then I should break it off with all those other girls,' I sighed.

'Well, I... It..' she stutters.

'Hermione! I'm not serious!"

Her face brightens and she smiles bashfully, 'You jerk.'

'All I need is you.' I take her hand in mine, and pull her on top of me as we start kissing.

We hear the door open, but it's too late to do anything about it, we're caught.

Ron storms out of the room while Ginny and Neville just stand and stare at us. Hermione moves to get off of me but is stopped by Ginny.

'Don't bother moving on our account.' she says hotly and leaves in the same manner as her brother. Neville follows her and we sit there in silence for a moment, then we get up and move to separate sides of the room.

'We should have told Ron we're dating.' she says.

I look over at her like she grew a second head, were we dating? She watches me, and fat tears fall from her eyes. She nods her head and grabs the rest of her clothes.

'I... I can't...' she sobs as she runs out of the room.

I said I was king of all that is pricky, and it seems now, to not be enough. I had hurt Hermione, I never wanted to do that. Of course at the time I didn't know, I had just broken her heart.

I wasn't about to stay in that room for one moment longer, my only problem was I couldn't go to Gryffindor Tower. I took the firewhiskey and headed to the only other place I could think of going.

* * *

I drank more of the firewhiskey as I looked up at the star-filled sky.

'Fuck everybody,' I slur.

Hagrid's face comes into view and I start laughing.

'Look, it's something mad and hairy,' I laugh.

'Harry! What are you doing with that?' He points to the firewhiskey.

'Getting drunk. I'd ask you to join me, but there isn't much left.'

'Harry, you know better!'

'Nope, I don't. But it seems to be that I don't know fuck about fuck.'

'Harry!'

Apparently my language shocked him; if he only knew.

'We need to get you back to bed,' he said.

'Nope, I'm not going back there.'

'Harry, you can't stay here all night.'

I grab the firewhiskey, 'I can, and I will.'

Hagrid takes the alcohol from me.

'That's mine, I stole that from the people who stole that rightfully,' I say pointing at his pocket.

'Why are you out here, Harry?'

'Because I'm a prat, and I hate girls.'

'Don' go sayin' that, Hermione's a girl.'

'I hate her most of all.'

'Harry! Don' you ever say that.' Hagrid sat on the ground across from me.

I sat up and faced him, 'She abandoned me... I hate her. You know who I hate more than anyone, even more than Voldemort? Me.'

'Why?' He looks at me as if I am the dumbest person he had ever seen. I hated that he believed in me that much, I didn't deserve his trust.

'I am one fucked up, parentless prick. I just wanted... I needed everything. And in the end what did I accomplish? I hurt Hermione, and I don't feel like going on. I... everything is a fight, I don't want to fight anymore. I just want to rest, can't I stop fighting and just rest?'

I was lying on the ground again, crying.

'If ya want to sleep, I can take you up to the castle.'

'You know I've been having these dreams, good ones, the best I've ever had. You want to know what they're about?'

Hagrid nods, unsure of what is to come.

'I dream that I'm one year old, and when Voldemort comes to kill my parents he kills me too........ It's late, I should get back to the tower.'

I get up and walk towards the castle, not being followed by Hagrid. He probably thinks I'm going to Gryffindor tower, but I can't go there.

So I walk into the one room that doesn't remind me of Hermione, the Owlery. Hedwig flies down to me and I hold her for a moment.

'You have to go to the Weasley's, okay? Go on.' I say, letting her fly off my arm and into the sky.

I take the chain from off my neck and take the ring off the chain. I put the ring on my left ring finger and look at it while I sit in the windowsill.

Why did a stupid label have to mean so much? Was that all she cared about, being called or thought of as my girlfriend? She had all of me, everything I could give to another being. And in return she was my salvation, she made everything all right again. She was my Hermione, did it matter that she was never my girlfriend?

What would I do without her, how could I survive without everything she gave so willingly to me? I couldn't deal with Voldemort; I couldn't deal with any of it.

If I died now, the prophecy would be null and void. I wouldn't die at his hands, so maybe he would die too. There was only one way to test my theory, I pushed myself out of the windowsill and fell to the ground.

* * *

Hagrid sat there, in awe of what Harry had just told him. Harry wanted to die. Maybe he was just saying it because he was drunk, that's what he hoped for anyway. A few minutes later Hagrid heard a thud and got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He ran across the lawn and saw Harry on the ground.

* * *

Hermione walked into the Gryffindor common room and tried to get up to the girls' dorms, but was held back by Ron.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Everything," she yelled.

Ron ran a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry about... that. I just wasn't... I didn't know... It's just going to take some time to get used to the idea-"

"You don't have to," Hermione crossed her arms in front of her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's over... Not that it ever really was something to begin with."

"So that was the first... Sorry, best friend walking in on you has got to be a mood killer."

"It wasn't the first time Ron, I just meant... we were never a couple." Hermione started to cry again.

Ron's brow furrowed, but a moment later his eyes widened, "Oh."

"There's just one problem." Hermione sobbed.

"What?"

"I'm in love with him."

-->

“He is a hard man who is only just, and a sad one who is only wise.” -Voltaire

* * *

Hagrid kicked open the castle doors and watched as Dumbledore ran up to him.

"What happened?"

"I think 'e fell," Hagrid croaked out as tears seemed to endlessly streak down his face.

Dumbledore helped Hagrid to the infirmary and asked him to inform Professor McGonagall of the news.

He looked down at Harry and saw a pale crumpled body that didn't seem much like the life-filled boy he had first seen six years ago.

He heard a gasp from behind him and he knew it could only be Minerva.

"Is he?"

"Barely alive, although it shouldn't be possible."

"Why?"

"Because he jumped from the Owlery."

"How-"

McGonagall stopped herself; of course Albus knew everything that was going on in the castle.

"Please inform Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, and do ask Hagrid to Floo over to the Weasley home," he said.

He tried to sound indifferent, like it was any other student lying on the bed, but it wasn't. It was Harry Potter.

Madame Pomfrey worked on him, hurrying frantically to her cupboards and back to the bed. After just a few minutes had passed, he watched as Hermione came into the room and started to cry uncontrollably, while Ron tried everything to comfort her.

Albus did not feel like staying where he could neither help nor be active in any way, so he chose that point to go back up to his office.

Madame Pomfrey ended up giving Hermione something to calm her down. She looked over to Harry and saw something she missed the first time, her promise ring was on his left hand. She felt as if she couldn't breathe and had to leave. She pushed past Hagrid and the Weasleys as she ran out of the castle.

She was only allowed a minute of solitude before Mrs. Weasley came out and draped her husband's cloak around Hermione's shoulders.

"He was wearing the promise ring I gave to him," Hermione sniffed. "I put it on a chain so he could wear it without people seeing it, but he put it on his finger."

Mrs. Weasley apparently didn't care what Hermione was feeling at the moment, she wanted to ask some questions.

"Hermione, Hagrid... It's a big possibility that Harry jumped. Was there anything that he said, had he been depressed..."

"Just chipper," Hermione laughed. "Sirius just died, he has the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders, and the normal problems of a sixteen year old; how the fuck do you want him to feel?"

"Hermione!"

Harry had usually been the one to use the bad words, now she understood why, they were empowering.

"No! I'm not one of your hundred children; you don't get to scold me! Besides, if you should feel the need, there are more reasons to scold me other than my language."

Having unprotected sex for most of the term was one. She knew her mother would have a heart attack if she learned that little fact.

"Ron said that the two of you had been spending quite some time together recently, I thought he might have said something to you. Anything really, it may not have seemed like much at the time."

"I didn't hear him say anything." Hermione shook her head.

"You must have, with all the time you spent together."

* * *

Could I actually say it to the mother of all mothers? Could I utter the words to this completely sweet woman? Of course I could, I was angry at everything and everyone.

"We didn't talk all that much."

For a woman who had raised six boys she was painfully oblivious, "Are you saying that Ron lied to me?"

"No, I'm saying we were too busy."

My eyes make contact with hers and she finally gets my meaning.

"Hermione, now is not the time to.... make things up."

You really don't want to give a desperate girl cannon fodder. I hated her; I hated Harry for not having to be

here to deal with this, and I hated myself. Not until then did I realize the actual seriousness of my situation.

"Because the 'boy who lived' could never do anything like that. WE HAD SEX! ON ALMOST A NIGHTLY BASIS; I say almost nightly because we really didn't care what time of day it was."

It was then that Mrs. Weasley did something I never expected her to do. She slapped me.

"Don't lie!"

"I'm not! Ask Dumbledore; if he really knows everything that goes on in this castle he'll know. Harry was using me for sex."

I walked back up towards the castle, then turned around, "He's not perfect, if you'd stop putting him on a pedestal you'd see he's just like the rest of us." I paused, "He may have used me, but I gave it up willingly. It may have been the stupidest thing I have ever done, but if he came to me again and asked for it, I would do it in a heartbeat."

* * *

Ron watched as his mother walked out of the infirmary in search of Hermione.

He didn't tell her why Harry and Hermione had spent so much time together, he didn't want to make trouble for his best friends, but he also didn't want to get in his mother's way.

He looked sideways to meet his father's questioning gaze.

"Ron, can we have a moment?"

"Sure."

Ron and his father walked over to a quiet corner of the infirmary.

"Is there anything else, something you didn't want to tell your mother?"

Ron gulped.

"You... I don't know."

"Don't worry, no one will get into trouble."

"You have to understand, it's been a hard year for Harry, he wasn't thinking clearly."

"What did he do?"

"He... He and Hermione have been... Tonight Hermione and Harry had a fight, about what their relationship exactly was. Hermione came to Gryffindor Tower and I convinced her to stay and wait for Harry, but he never came. I swear I just found out about this tonight, I would have talked to him before, but he didn't tell me. The only reason I'm telling you is because Mum can't know. I don't know what she'd do to them."

"So that ring-"

"Is from Hermione."

Mr. Weasley nodded and thanked his son for telling him the truth, then went back to Harry's bedside. Could this boy have actually done what it seemed he did? Hermione wouldn't lie, and after Sirius' death he had been acting strange.

* * *

"Hagrid, you may speak freely," Dumbledore said as he sat down at his desk.

Mrs. Weasley, Minerva, and Hagrid had entered his office around the same time; he was sure they were going to come to him sooner.

"Harry, when I seen 'im on the grounds b'fore he... Well I-"

"You saw him before? Why didn't you bring him up to bed? What were you thinking?"

"Molly, let Hagrid say what he will," Dumbledore said.

"When I seen 'im on the grounds 'e told me some things, I thought 'e was jus' sayin' them 'cause 'e was drunk."

"A student drunk on the grounds?" McGonagall interrupted.

"Minerva, please. As you were saying?"

"Well, 'e was drunk but ev'rybody 'as their bad days, I though' I could jus' get 'im teh bed and 'e would sleep it off." Hagrid coughed, "But 'e started teh say teh me 'e doesn' like girls, an' I said 'don' go sayin' that 'cause Hermione's a girl'. I was really surprised by what 'e said nex'. He says he 'ates 'er mos' of all, says she abandoned 'im. Then 'e goes on sayin' he 'ates 'imself more 'an... well You-Know-Who. I ask'd 'im why, and 'e says... well, 'e says tha' he 'urt 'Ermione, and 'e don' want teh go on, that 'e jus' wants teh rest. I tell 'im I can bring 'im teh bed, but 'e didn' wan' that. He says the bes' dreams he 'as is of You-Know-Who killin' him when 'e was a baby. He wen' back up teh the castle then. I though' he was goin' teh sleep it off. If I knew I would 'ave done something, but 'e had been actin' odd for a while."

Hagrid sat back down in his chair and tried with all his might to hold back the tears.

"Dumbledore, I was wondering, could I speak to you alone?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Dumbledore nodded and McGonagall put her arm around Hagrid and helped him out of the office.

"Hermione said something to me tonight, I don't want to believe it, but..."

"You want to know if she and Harry had a relationship? Hermione didn't lie, whatever she said to you was the truth."

"So you just let your students go around and..." Mrs. Weasley gestured wildly.

"Of course, not."

"But, you knew the entire time, didn't you?" Mrs. Weasley's voice became an octave higher.

"I did. Every time a male student finds a way of getting around the charms not allowing them into the girls dorms a silent alarm goes off and I am informed of which student it is and if their actions become inappropriate."

"So you just stood back and let it happen? What kind of school..." Mrs. Weasley stopped herself before she insulted Dumbledore.

"Harry has been on this earth for a mere sixteen years, and in that sixteen years he has had to face more hardships than most living wizards. Just as I informed him last year, he has had more problems to face than any other student to ever walk through those doors. I made the mistake of treating him like a boy, he isn't, in every way that counts he is a man. I decided to treat his decision like I would any other man, I would respect it. After everything you have heard, do you still care about him?"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Then go help him."

* * *

Remus Lupin walked through the entrance of the Great Hall; Hermione Granger was sitting at the Gryffindor table alone. He walked to the table and sat down across from her.

"I've seen Mrs. Weasley," he said.

She shook her head, "Are you going to call me a liar, too?"

"Never. I just thought you should know, I know what happened. If you want me to leave, I will."

"You don't hate me?" She looked up at him, tears threatening to pour from her eyes.

He laughed heartily at that, "No. I was a student here once. Oh let's face it; I was just in love with my books. I was you."

She shook her head.

"You don't think so? I think we're more alike than even I want to admit. Books, facts, it's easy. Facts can't lie, they are what they are. But feelings... Feelings are dangerous. They are the unknown; and they can kill, much worse than any Dark wizard. So you fancy someone, but you don't say anything to them, feelings pass. But then it becomes something more than fancy. You begin to take in everything they say as if it were a fact, and everything they do impacts you. It can't be love because love happens to witches in their thirties, after they get a career. But the world is different when they are around, and even though you are unsure about yourself you are definitely sure that your world would wither and die without them. But, it can't be love, you hope against all odds that it isn't love because if it is, then your world of facts crumbles and you are left lost and no one can make it better; save one person.... But we aren't alike."

Tears ran down Hermione's cheeks, "Who, why?"

"Sirius wasn't gay."

Hermione nodded, "I was alone, I had Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, even Luna. I was surrounded by more friends than I had ever had, and I was all alone. It hurt, but being with him made the pain go away. I was too far-gone, I didn't even care that it wasn't logical. When we spent time together we were both alone, but we were together. We had each other. I never expected dates, or overt displays of affection. I thought we were dating, I thought I meant something to him."

"Don't you?" Lupin asked.

"Apparently not."

"Did you ask him how he felt about you? Or did you just assume? When dealing with emotions you can't just draw a logical conclusion, you have to ask."

Hermione wiped her eyes, "Thanks... I should get back to Harry."

Lupin nodded.

* * *

Hermione walked up to Harry's bed and sat down next to Ron. Mr. Weasley approached and put a hand on her back.

"How are you?"

"Fine," she said.

Mr. Weasley gave her a fatherly smile and sat down next to them. Surely he was the first one Mrs. Weasley had talked to after their meeting, and yet the information made him worry more for her. Mr. Weasley was a mystery to her, or maybe he was just a really good man.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Madame Pomfrey fixed all of his bones, the internal damages were minimal for someone who jumped so far. She doesn't know when he'll wake up," Mr. Weasley said.

"It was the prophecy, wasn't it? That stopped him from dying. He told us a long time ago," Ron said.

"Most likely," Mr. Weasley nodded.

Hagrid walked in and sat down on a bed next to Harry, his weight made the bed frame turn into a U-shape. He was followed by Mrs. Weasley who seemed to refuse to look at Hermione at all. Ron put his arm around Hermione and squeezed.

Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty, "I'm sorry."

"I'll get over it," he said.

Hermione felt saddened that she could do nothing to help Ron, but then again she was the one that hurt him in the first place.

Lupin finally walked in, sitting somewhere off to the side.

Now all they had to do was wait.

* * *

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I woke, but I didn't know it at first. I kept asking myself did I really jump from the second largest tower in all of Hogwarts? When I did regain consciousness I got the headache of my life.

'Fuck.'

That was the first word out of my mouth; I'm charming, aren't I? I remember hearing a mumbling sound, but I couldn't make it out. I opened my eyes and was met with such harsh lights I thought I would have vomited.

'For fuck's sake.' I put both hands over my eyes.

Not going to do anything stupid like that again. The mumbling started to get clearer and louder.

"Harry, can you hear us?' I finally hear Ron.

'Yeah, Ron. What happened?'

'You jumped.'

'Well yeah, I've got that part. I mean after that.'

'Oh, Hagrid found you, Madame Pomfrey fixed you up.'

'Then I guess my theory was wrong.'

What the fuck was I thinking... Oh wait, Hermione abandoned me, I was willing to test any theory.

'What theory?' Ron asked.

'I thought... if I died, then so would Voldemort, and before I hit I remember thinking something about socks and Dobby's head.... Drunk man and ledge does not a good time make.'

'You scared us to death Harry,' Ron said.

'Sorry... I just wasn't thinking... clearly.'

I didn't have my Hermione to make the bad thoughts disappear.

'Wait... us? Who's us?'

'Everyone's here.'

Shit. I just swore in front of everyone. It wasn't enough that I would loose everything, but that everyone had to know of my potty mouth, too. I opened my eyes to see indeed everyone was there. I was bombarded with hugs and fake smiles, but I didn't care. I just saw one thing, Ron had his arm around Hermione. Ron was holding my Hermione. I didn't make it blatantly obvious, but I kept them in my sights.

'You see, he's awake. Now you should all go home and let him rest,' Madame Pomfrey scowled.

Everyone did as they were told, save Ron and Hermione. Ron said it was good to see I was all right, then left. I willed Hermione to stay. Everyone could leave, but not her, she had to stay with me.

So far she just sat there, she didn't even look at me, this was good, this I could deal with.

'I'm sorr-'

'Don't Harry, I don't want to hear it right now. I just want to know something.'

'Anything.'

I was desperate. I needed Hermione, even if we were just friends, I needed her badly.

'How do you feel about me?'

I was floored. How could I answer such a question?

'What?'

'I want to know how you feel about me. Please, I think you at least owe me an answer.'

But I owed her so much more.

'I want to be with you all the time, not just for the sex, just being alone with you. When I was at my worst you were there, telling me you still cared about me and I never understood why. I couldn't understand how you could like me after all that you had seen. It sounds weird but just knowing that you still care about me makes me feel like I'm not alone. You're the only one who can make me forget I have a prophecy, or I'm the boy who lived. I'm just Harry and you like that, you don't know how that makes me feel.'

No, that wasn't enough, I should have done something more. Was I really that fucking corny?

'I love you, too, Harry,' she says.

Wait. One, she loves me.... I'll have to get back to that. Second, I love her? When the fuck did I say that? I didn't, maybe she has a hearing problem. But she entwines her fingers with mine and I get that feeling again. Is that what that is, love? No, that's being loved... entirely different feeling. Love is what I felt when we sat in that broom closet all day.

Fuck.

Bollocks.

I was in love with my best friend. Which was a step up from just fucking her.

'Miss Granger, I believe it's time for you to leave,' Madame Pomfrey popped her head in.

I think I see Mrs. Weasley leaving from the corner of my eye, I don't even want to think about what she could have heard.

'She's staying,' I say matter-of-factly.

'She will not, this is my-'

'Then I leave, too. Pick one or the other, loose your patient or keep them,' I say.

She shakes her head and leaves us alone again.

I look back to Hermione and of course am compelled to ask the stupid question.

'Does this mean we have to go out on like... dates?'

Hermione laughs. I'm glad my ignorance is funny to one of us.

'No, I don't care about that. Just make sure you reserve a broom closet for us every week.'

That I can definitely do.

* * *

Eliza put her father's journal back in his Hogwarts trunk. That was... weird, to say the least. Were those really her parents? She decided to never remember what she had just read, ignorance could lead to happiness in this case. She went back downstairs and walked into the living room where her parents were reading a book.

Her dad turned the page, but her mum turned it back for a moment, then turned it again.

"What were you looking for up there?" her father asked.

"Just looking through some of your Hogwarts stuff."

Hopefully he forgot what he kept up there. That was one confrontation she did not want to go through. She opened up a magazine and began to read.

"Dad, you got Witch Weekly's best smile again," she said.

"I always liked it," her mum said.

"Really?"

"Honestly Harry, don't you care that every witch in the wizarding world thinks you have a fabulous smile?"

"No. When have I ever?" he shrugged.

"What was Dad like in school?" Eliza asked.

"I hated him," her mum said nonchalantly.

"Don't lie to your daughter! She loved me. The moment she saw me she though 'this is the man I'm going to marry.' By the second week she had the entire reception planned," her father laughed.

"Your father and your uncle Ron thought I was a bookworm, and quite insane," her mother said seriously. "But then they saved my life and we became good friends. Your father always did everything he could for his friends. He was the bravest person I knew."

Eliza smiled, then went back to her magazine. She then saw a picture of a closet, and remembered that their own closet was twice the size of a normal one.

'That's just fucking gross,' she thought.

She looked over to her parents, "I'm never sweeping again."

* * *

A/N: In case you didn't notice, that was the end. When I first started to write this I had no idea what I was doing, it was just coming out. At first it was just supposed to be a diary of Harry's life… actually men don't have diaries, sorry, journal of Harry's life. Then it quickly changed, because I became curious about where exactly Harry learned about sex. After that it changed into what you see now because… well I was getting sick and tired of Harry. It was like he was sitting all innocent right next to me as I was writing with a freakin' halo over his head, I wanted him to be bad. But I had read some `bad' Harry fics and I didn't want him to be a man-whore chain smoker, so this is what I came up with. I hope you at least enjoyed it, (to enjoy it doesn't mean you have to like it) and if you didn't all I can say is `mehhnn'.

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