Unofficial Portkey Archive

This Night Is Mine

Chapter 2- Fighting and Healing

They had Quidditch the next day, and practice began every bit as badly as Harry had feared. Ginny kept sniffling and wouldn't look at him, and Ron, who obviously knew something was up, was distracted by the tension between Harry and Ginny. Harry thought Ron should look far more upset about his own break up with the girl he had liked for three years, but it didn't seem to be upsetting him. He had avoided talking to Ron at all since yesterday when he had talked with Hermione; he was so angry about how Ron had treated Hermione that he found all sorts of reasons to stay away from him. He and Hermione had gone for another long walk after dinner the night before, so if Ron had wanted to talk about his girl-problems, Harry wouldn't have been there for him. He felt a stab of guilt about it; Ron was his best friend, after all, along with Hermione. He had never wanted to get caught between them, but the truth was, he didn't feel at all like he was caught between them now. He felt like he was entirely on Hermione's side. He didn't know if that was fair, but he didn't really care. He hoped he'd never have to see Hermione cry again like she had the day before. Just the thought of it was enough to make him clench his fists as he looked at his Keeper.

"Did everybody follow that play?" Harry snapped gesturing toward the diagrams on the blackboard. Ginny nodded glumly, Ron frowned, and the other, younger players murmured their assent, looking puzzled at the tension in the air. "Fine. Let's get out there and run it."

They all rose to grab their brooms and take their places on the field. Ginny wandered out of the locker room alone; Harry refused even to look at her. He knew he was probably being childish, but he was still furious about yesterday's events. He couldn't get past the fact that he had really liked her, and she had betrayed him. He pulled his Firebolt from his locker and slammed it shut, harder than was strictly necessary. But it felt good, anyway. He spun to walk away and nearly collided with Ron.

"What's up with you and Ginny?" Ron asked bluntly.

"You should ask Ginny," Harry said shortly. He wasn't going to spread tales about his ex-girlfriend. It seemed…ungentlemanly, somehow. Besides, he wasn't keen to let anyone know she had thrown him over for his worst enemy.

"Did you do something to her?" Ron asked, his voice sharper than it had been a moment ago.

Harry snorted in disgust. "Please," he said, his upper lip curling.

Ron shook his head. "Then what's going on?"

"We broke up," Harry said flatly, stepping past Ron and heading out of the locker room. Ron hurried to catch up with him.

"Oh," Ron said. "So did Hermione and I."

"I know," Harry said, wishing Ron would leave him alone. "She told me."

"Yeah," Ron said, and his tone of voice had Harry looking up at him. "She tells you damn near everything, doesn't she?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, halfway across the Quidditch pitch. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that it gets old, trying to be with a girl and she won't stop talking about some other bloke," Ron shrugged, but there was an edge in his voice that belied the casual gesture.

"What girl's that, Ron?" Harry asked with sarcastic innocence. "Luna? Cause that's the only girl I've noticed you spending much time with recently."

"Hey, at least Luna can talk about something other than you!" Ron growled, stepping into Harry's face.

"Maybe if you'd given Hermione half the attention you give Luna, she'd have had something else to talk about!" Harry stepped up to Ron, who did not give ground. They were nose to nose, snarling into each other's faces.

"Maybe I would have if I could ever have found her!" Ron yelled. "She was always off with you somewhere! What were you two doing? Were you cheating on my sister with my girlfriend, Harry?" He dropped his broom and shoved Harry hard in the chest.

Harry stumbled, stepped back under the force of it, his Firebolt falling from his hand. Recovering, he stepped forward again and shoved Ron back. "I'm the one who was cheating?" he yelled incredulously. "You've got to be kidding! Why don't you ask your sister who was cheating?"

Ron took a swing at him. Harry tried to move, but it glanced off him, and he felt blood where his lip split. Ron was panting, but yelled, "Ginny wouldn't do that! And you're the one who was off shagging my girlfriend!"

Harry bent low and plowed his shoulder into Ron's stomach. Ron grunted and fell backwards, then rolled over and sprang back to his feet. He moved in to shove Harry again. Harry blocked him and gripped his arms.

"If I had been shagging your girlfriend-which I wasn't-I would have been the only one, wouldn't I?" Harry was breathing heavily, trying to hold Ron's arms back so he couldn't take another punch at him. "You don't seem to know what to do with a girl when you've got one, Ron."

Ron broke free and took another swing at Harry. It made contact, and Harry felt the crunch of Ron's fist against his glasses, and the sharp, thin pain of small pieces of glass slicing into the tender skin around his eye. Colors exploded behind his eyelid and red fury sliced through his brain. He ran at Ron again, fists clenched, and landed a punch squarely on Ron's jaw. Ron spun and fell, blood flowing from his mouth, but Harry didn't move back quickly enough, and Ron kicked out a leg and tripped him. Harry fell to the hard ground of the Quidditch pitch with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. He hadn't even gotten his breath back when Ron was on top of him, slamming his knee into his chest, fist raised, his blood dripping onto Harry's robes. Harry was sure he had cracked a rib, but he didn't have time to think about it. He braced himself for another hit while trying to wrestle himself out from under Ron.

Just then Ron froze, his eyes wide. Harry didn't understand until he heard a sharp, outraged voice come from over Ron's shoulder.

"Weasley! Potter! What on earth is going on here?" Professor McGonagall snapped, pulling Ron off of Harry with a wave of her wand. Ron was still glaring daggers at Harry, and Harry was still trying to get his breath back. Harry scrambled to his feet and took an aggressive stance, ready for Ron to rush at him again, halfway inclined to ignore McGonagall's presence and attack Ron himself. The anger had not worked itself out of his system, and the pain that throbbed in his face and ribs only added to it. Ron could not move to take a fighting stance, but the violence was still there in his eyes, too. Harry could see it, it was all he could do not to respond to it, to give Ron what he was so clearly asking for.

"The Quidditch Captain and a Gryffindor Prefect, brawling like trolls out here for everyone to see!" McGonagall hissed, her own fury apparently taking her past the yelling stage. Maybe she should just take a swing at him, too, Harry thought; they could all roll around in the grass and beat the hell out of each other. "I have never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students in my life! You will be fortunate if you aren't expelled, and it would be no more than you deserve!"

Harry froze, his eyes darting to McGonagall. He knew he wouldn't be expelled. He knew he was being cynical, but the wizarding world needed him too much for Dumbledore to let him out of his sight for that long. But Dumbledore might well take the Quidditch Captaincy from him. He swore under his breath, but McGonagall heard him and sucked in a breath.

"Are you not in enough trouble, Potter?" she bit out at him. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut." She freed Ron from his Binding Spell, and Ron immediately spat out a mouthful of blood onto the grass. Then he hunched his shoulders and balled his hands into fists and faced Harry again.

"Enough, Weasley!" McGonagall snapped. "Your sister is crying, the younger players are terrified, and you two look like the idiots you are." Harry spared a glance for Ginny, who was standing with a horrified look on her face, tears streaming down her face. Then he focused his attention back on Ron.

"You will go to the hospital wing," McGonagall said with a deliberateness that told Harry she was keeping her own temper on a very tight rein. "You will get treated by Madame Pomfrey. You will meet me in the Headmaster's office in one hour. Quidditch practice is cancelled. Go!"

Harry relaxed his stance enough to snatch up his Firebolt, but he wasn't willing to entirely turn his back on Ron. He was still furious, but under it was a betrayed hurt that he didn't want to feel. Anger was easier, simpler. How could Ron believe that Hermione would sleep with him while she was dating Ron? After all they'd been through, from that very first train ride, how could his best mate think he'd ever do that to him? Harry walked across the pitch, knowing Ron was a half-step behind him, barely refraining himself from turning and punching him again, just because he was there. It was only the knowledge that McGonagall was watching them all the way up to the castle that kept him in control.

"Damn it, Harry, slow down," Ron snapped. Harry ignored him, and would have sped up just for spite, but every step jarred his ribs, and he could barely see where he was going as it was. Ron grabbed his shoulder and Harry spun, ready to jump back into the fight.

"Hey, stop!" Ron said, holding up open hands to show he was not attacking. Harry didn't punch him, but he wasn't sure he was ready to talk to him. Ron warily put down his hands, and they continued to walk. Harry shoved his own fists into his robe pockets to keep from using them.

"You'd better tell me what happened with Ginny," Ron said flatly. Harry turned and gave him a disgusted look. "You said- you said you weren't the one who cheated. But I can't believe Ginny cheated, Harry. She's just not like that."

"Believe whatever you want, Ron," Harry said wearily. The adrenaline was finally ebbing, leaving him feeling jittery and exhausted. "If you're willing to believe that Hermione and I were shagging behind your back, then you should have no trouble believing that your sister is perfectly pure and innocent." He hauled open the huge front doors of the castle, unable to entirely suppress a groan at the way it aggravated his injuries. "I think you broke a fucking rib."

Ron's jaw dropped. Harry knew it was because he seldom used language like that, but right now he had several choice words running through his head. Maybe he'd give Ron a thrill and use them all on him.

Ron was quiet as they climbed up several staircases. Then he said, "I know you weren't shagging Hermione."

Harry snorted, feeling like the apology, if that's what it was, was too little too late. "Yeah? Well, I know you weren't shagging her, either."

Ron scowled and took a breath, obviously trying to keep his temper. Harry tried to glance at him, but Ron was on his left, and that eye was useless at the moment. "That's just the kind of thing I was talking about," Ron said. "Why do you know stuff that`s private between me and Hermione? Why does she tell you that stuff?"

"She never told me anything until yesterday, after she broke up with you," Harry said shortly. "I found her on the other side of the lake, crying so hard I thought she'd be sick. She needed someone to talk to."

"Did you tell her what happened with you and Ginny?" Ron asked.

"I told her it was over between us. She guessed the rest. She's smart that way."

"Yeah," Ron said grimly. "She is."

They finally reached the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey took one look at them, with their faces and Quidditch robes covered with blood, and rolled her eyes, then bustled down the aisle toward them. She didn't even ask; she just led them to beds and pulled out various potions and started muttering incantations, waving her wand over them. Harry endured it stoically, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his side and the wicked stinging of his battered eye. The pain was starting to make him feel nauseated.

"Mr. Potter, you have a cracked rib, and if there isn't permanent damage to your left eye, I'll be quite surprised," she informed him briskly. "But I can't find where the blood on your robes is coming from."

"It's not mine," Harry said. He didn't offer any more information.

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips and sent a pleading glance toward the ceiling as though praying for patience. She turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, you have two teeth loose on the upper left side of your mouth, and that cut on your lip isn't going to heal fully for a few days. It's quite deep. Now, both of you lie back and be still."

They did as they were told, because they knew it was easier to obey Madame Pomfrey than to argue with her, and because they knew they were in enough trouble as it was. When she finally bustled off again, Harry turned to Ron.

"Look, mate, I know this is none of my business, but what was the deal with you and Hermione?" Harry could feel his face burning; guys just didn't ask each other these kinds of questions, but it was eating at him, and he needed to understand.

Ron turned red as well, but he sighed. "I didn't know it bothered her so much," he admitted, looking up at the ceiling. "But, I couldn't get used to it. It was like trying to make a move on my sister or something. I tried, I really did. She's a great kisser. But it was just too weird."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "But, Hermione's so pretty and…" he broke off, trying to think of words to describe just how attractive she was. "Anyway," he gave up, shaking his head, "I'd think any bloke'd be glad to have a chance with her."

"I thought so, too, but it didn't work out that way," Ron shrugged. "And then I started to think of Luna like that. I guess Hermione figured that out, too?" This time Harry shrugged. "I was trying not to…I felt like I was disloyal to Hermione, even though I never did anything with Luna, but I couldn't help how I felt. It was a mess. I'm glad she broke it off. I didn't mean to make her cry."

"She'll be all right," Harry said. He'd make sure of it.

"Well," Ron said, letting his head fall back against the pillow, "now you can ask her out or whatever."

Harry's head snapped up, causing his eye to start throbbing again. "What? Me? I'm not going to ask her out!"

Ron opened one eye and looked at him skeptically. "Uh huh," he said. "I thought you said any bloke'd be glad to have a chance with her?"

"Yeah, but I- Hermione and I are friends!" Harry was starting to panic. He didn't think of Hermione that way. Did he? Of course not, he told himself firmly. She was his best friend. Ron was being stupid, trying to get in one last dig because he couldn't punch him again.

Ron slid him a sly look. "Oh, all right. So, you've never noticed the way she fills out her robes?" Harry scowled at him. "And you've never noticed that she has this one robe that's a little too tight, that she usually wears in Herbology because she doesn't like to get her good ones dirty?"

Harry scowled at him. "I thought you said she was like a sister!"

Ron smirked, "Well, I'm not blind, am I?"

Harry groaned and looked away from Ron. Of course he had noticed the Herbology robe. Noticing did not mean wanting. He closed his eyes, ignoring Ron's snicker. Ron had actually had the chance to touch her-regularly-- and he'd turned it down. Harry started to doze, daydreaming about Hermione and her Herbology robe…

"You can go now," Madame Pomfrey said, her sharp voice snapping Harry awake. She looked down at both Harry and Ron. "I understand your presence is requested in the Headmaster's office."

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"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said, horrified. She buried her face in her hands for a moment. "I can't believe you did that! What were you thinking?"

"Forget it, Hermione," Harry said. They were sitting in Hagrid's back garden, resting back against the giant pumpkins Hagrid was growing in preparation for Halloween. They hadn't seen Hagrid since the day before, and they suspected he might have gone to France to try to talk to Madame Maxime.

"I will not forget it, Harry Potter!" Hermione snapped furiously. "You could have done permanent damage to your eye. You could have been expelled, you could have been kicked off the Quidditch team-"

"But I wasn't," Harry shrugged. "Neither was Ron. Let it go."

Hermione knew she was being stupid, but every time she looked at Harry's bruised face, at the bandages that still covered his eye, she wanted to cry. She wasn't used to crying all the time like this, and it annoyed her, made her irritable and edgy. She thought of herself as someone who made her own choices and took responsibility for them, so crying over the idiotic actions of idiotic men did not sit well with her.

"Everything's so complicated," she said with a sigh, resting her head on her drawn up knees. "Didn't it used to be easier than this?"

"Yeah," Harry said, giving her a crooked smile. He reached over and squeezed her hand. "I guess it did. But what happened with me and Ron isn't complicated, Hermione. We were both mad, so we pounded on each other. There's not much more to it than that."

"You pounded on him because of me," Hermione began, feeling wretched about the whole thing. "I never wanted to come between you and Ron."

"You didn't," Harry said firmly. "I pounded on him for a lot of reasons. He was being a complete prat." He had not forgotten his feeling of outraged hurt when Ron had said what he said, about him and about Hermione. It still stung, but he tried to shrug it off. "Look, Ron and I are okay. He knows you and I weren't doing anything, and he knows I didn't cheat on Ginny, either."

"Did you tell him about Ginny and Malfoy?" she asked.

"No," Harry said. "That's Ginny's to tell."

Hermione nodded. That part was exactly as she expected. She knew Harry wouldn't talk about Ginny or what she had done. He was too honorable. She loved that about him, she thought with a smile. Telling Ron what Ginny had done could have saved Harry not only the physical pain of the fight with Ron, but the emotional pain that she knew he would never discuss. At that moment she could have cheerfully pounded on Ron herself, for hurting Harry's feelings as he had.

"Is your eye going to be okay?" she asked, since it was the only way he was going to allow her to express concern for him. She wanted to hold him to her and remind him that she knew, if no one else did, how deep and true his sense of honor ran, and how anyone who could question that must be both blind and stupid. "Here, let me look."

She got up on her knees and faced him. Gently she removed his repaired glasses and ran her fingers lightly over the bandage. Her fingers were soft and cool, and Harry closed his eyes as she skimmed them over his face. They felt good on his bruised and tender skin. She was so close to him, he could have leaned over and rested his head against her chest. The thought was so tempting that he caught himself swaying in her direction before he realized what he was doing. Annoyed with himself, he gently grabbed her hand and drew it away.

"It'll be fine," he said. "Madame Pomfrey got all the glass out and healed the cuts. She just thinks it needs to rest before I try to use it. You know how she is about rest." He tried to make a joke of it, but Hermione sat back on her heels, her hand still in his, and frowned.

"I hope you don't lose any more vision," she said, more sharply than she had intended, but she got so frustrated sometimes at his refusal to take his own injuries seriously. "You can't afford to be at a disadvantage when you face Voldemort, you know."

Harry glanced at her with his good eye. He had thought the same thing, but he didn't like for her to worry about him so much. Suddenly he smiled and slipped his glasses back on. "Well, if I lose my sight in that eye, I'll just have to politely request that Voldemort stand on my right side when we duel. Think he'll go for that?"

Hermione tried to scowl at him, but she couldn't resist it when he teased her like that. She was still mad, she told herself, even if she had to smile. "Of course," she said sarcastically. "That's what the Order has been getting wrong. They haven't used good manners! Death Eaters are all about courtesy."

Harry grinned, anxious to ease Hermione's worry. She took so much responsibility for her friends' feelings; it didn't seem fair somehow. It wasn't her fault he and Ron had fought; in Harry's opinion that was entirely Ron's fault. Harry was sure that if Ron hadn't delivered the one-two punch of defending Ginny and attacking Hermione's honor, he would never have been compelled to fight him.

Harry's eye-indeed, the whole left side of his face-was beginning to throb again, so he closed his other eye and leaned his head against the pumpkin behind him. He felt rather than saw Hermione frown. Then he heard the slight hitch in her breathing and knew she was getting upset again.

"You were defending me," she said softly, taking a deep breath to steady her emotions and keep more tears at bay. Her hand was still being held in Harry's, so she squeezed it gently. "Ron said that I had cheated on him, and you pounded on him. I wish you hadn't, Harry."

"Can we please not talk about this any more?" Harry said without opening his eyes. Hermione ignored him. She was trying to work something out.

"I wish you hadn't," she continued, "because I hate to see you hurt. But you don't know what it means to a girl, even a girl who can take care of herself, to have one man in her life who will fight for her. I hope you never do it again, but it means a lot to me."

Hermione watched Harry's face as he leaned against the giant pumpkin. He didn't open his eye, but his cheeks turned pink under the bandages. He really was very handsome, she thought. She had noticed it before, of course; just because they were friends didn't mean she was blind. She shook her head slightly; she just didn't understand how Ginny could choose Malfoy over Harry. Not that Malfoy wasn't good-looking in his pale, aristocratic sort of way, but still… There were more important things than just being good-looking, things like loyalty and honor and thoughtfulness and humor… she shook her head again. On an impulse that she couldn't explain, she braced one hand against the pumpkin, leaned forward and kissed his cheek below the bandage, near the corner of his mouth.

Harry didn't open his eyes. He just smiled slowly and squeezed her hand. Hermione shifted so that she was sitting next to him, her face burning. A cool wind gusted up and blew golden leaves onto their legs and into their hair; Hermione was grateful for it as it gave her something to think about besides having just kissed Harry. But even as she swept the leaves out of her hair with her free hand, she knew she didn't regret it. She hated that Ron and Harry had fought, but Harry made her feel more special than anyone ever had. He was such a good friend, she thought, leaning back against the pumpkin next to him. She was really lucky to have him.

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Ron sat alone at their usual table in the common room. Harry came down the dormitory steps with his Potions book, intending to study, but the sight of Ron sitting there bent over his books brought him up short. Normally he wouldn't give a second thought to sitting down at the table next to Ron, but things seemed different now. That thought annoyed him; when had it become a big deal to sit and study with his best friend? In that split second of hesitation, Harry resolved that it wouldn't be a big deal. He wouldn't let it be. Grimly he strode forward and tossed his book down on the table. Ron glanced up, his expression shuttered.

"Mind?" Harry grunted, nodding at one of the empty chairs.

"No," Ron said, pulling in the parchments that had scattered over the table. He returned his eyes to his paper and continued writing. Harry flopped down into the chair and opened his book as well, not looking at Ron. He was stiff and awkward, not the least because he was still sore and because his eye was still bandaged, so he kept his attention focused downward. He pretended to turn a page in the he book so that he could glance up at Ron, who was studiously looking down as well. Ron's lip was still swollen and occasionally dripped blood down his chin, which he wiped off with the back of his hand. Harry gave up trying to pretend not to care and tossed a handkerchief onto his parchment.

Ron glanced up, then took the handkerchief. "Thanks."

"Sorry about that," Harry said, gesturing at Ron's still bleeding lip.

Ron snorted and pressed the cloth to his lip. "Forget it. Sorry `bout your eye, though."

Harry shrugged. "It's fine," he said.

Both boys turned back to their books feeling better, though their expressions remained unchanged. Harry knew it would take him longer than this to really forgive Ron, but he felt they had made a start. Everything would be all right if Ron had the brains to keep his mouth shut and not say anything bad about Hermione. Harry tried to concentrate on his Potions lesson, but the thought of Hermione had him raising his hand to the spot where she had kissed him earlier that day. It still tingled when he thought about it, and since he didn't know what to do with that, he tried not to think about it.

As though his memory had conjured her, Hermione appeared at the table where Harry and Ron sat. She held a stack of books in front of her, clutching them to her chest, and looked hesitantly between them. She didn't want to ruin whatever tenuous peace they might have achieved, but they were her two best friends. She didn't want to be on the outside, either, she thought stubbornly. She wanted to still belong with them.

"Can I sit here?" she asked quickly, before her courage failed her. Both boys looked up, and she was struck with a new wave of grief at how battered their faces were. Harry's face was slightly pink and Hermione remembered how it had felt under her lips when she had given him that kiss this afternoon. His skin had been slightly rough, like he needed to shave. She felt her skin go hot as well, but waited for them to answer.

"Course," Ron said gruffly, moving his things again. Hermione smiled and exhaled in relief. They hadn't ruined everything. They were going to be all right. Maybe they weren't there yet, but they were a unit, the three of them. They would be all right. Hermoine dropped her books on the table and sat down in the chair between Harry and Ron. Nobody said much, each of them was studying diligently, but the casual comments and complaints that one or the other of them threw out from time to time felt so normal that Hermione felt like maybe they could get back to where they had been.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said suddenly, looking up at him.

Harry looked up and raised his eyebrow to show he was listening.

"Don't forget we have a committee meeting for the Ball tomorrow afternoon, all right? We have to finalize some decisions about the music and food."

Harry nodded, but Ron was frowning. "I thought Harry was on Ginny's committee," Ron said.

"I switched," Harry said shortly. Ron opened his mouth to say something then closed it again. He simply nodded and returned his attention to his books, his jaw set. Harry still didn't know how Ron was feeling about his and Ginny's breakup, but he didn't particularly care. It wasn't any of Ron's business, anyway.

Harry leaned back in his chair and slid his fingers under his glasses to rub his good eye. Using only one eye was giving him a headache; he was going to take these bandages off tomorrow whether or not Madame Pomfrey said it was okay. He pretended he didn't notice that both Ron and Hermione were watching him surreptitiously. His glance wandered around the room so that he didn't have to look at them and have one of them ask if he was all right, and at that moment the portrait hole opened and Ginny walked in.

Her robes were wrinkled and her hair was hanging loose from the ponytail she usually wore it in. Harry noticed that her lips were pink and swollen and that she was taking deep breaths. He knew exactly what that meant. She had just been seriously snogging someone and was trying to calm herself down. He'd seen her look like that enough times after he had kissed her. He stared at her, hating her and wanting her, unaware that he was even doing it.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, noticing where he was looking. She frowned. It was more than clear where Ginny had been, but it was Harry she was worried about. He looked like someone had just put the Full Body Bind on him.

Harry tore his gaze away from Ginny and looked at Hermione. She was looking worried again, and he took a deep breath. She gave him a shaky smile and he felt a little better, but not enough to sit here in the same room with Ginny.

"I'm fine," he said abruptly. "I'm going to bed." He grabbed up his Potions book and stood, knocking his chair over. He turned and walked quickly to the stairs and disappeared from their sight, leaving Hermione and Ron staring after him. Quietly, Hermione flicked her wand and righted Harry's upturned chair.

Harry stomped up the steps, wondering what was wrong with him. Why did he care if Ginny had obviously just been snogging Malfoy? As far as he was concerned, they could have each other, they were obviously perfect for each other, both of them lying, sneaky, hateful… he threw his Potions book into his trunk and it thudded through the dormitory with a mocking echo. He cared, he reminded himself, feeling grievously put upon, because thirty hours ago Ginny had been his girlfriend, she was supposed to be snogging with him, not with anyone else, and certainly not with Malfoy. He found that thought more galling than any other, the idea that Ginny, who was supposed to have such a crush on him for so long, could just throw him over after less than three months for Malfoy! He didn't think it would be quite as bad if it had been Dean or Seamus or even Neville, but why did she have to cheat on him with Malfoy?

At a loss for what to do, he ran a hand through his hair and looked around. There was nothing to throw, or he might have spent a gratifying half an hour or so smashing things. He thought grimly that he'd rather smash some of Ginny's things. Finally he wandered over to the window seat and looked out over the dark grounds. He usually loved autumn; there was something about the way the air felt, especially when he was flying. It was crisp and thick and smelled like possibilities. Too often the possibilities slipped through his fingers by the time the world turned cold.

He wondered if that was what upset him about Ginny. He had thought there was the possibility of love there. He had thought they were heading there together. Now he didn't have any idea what possibilities he was reaching for. Every time he grasped at one, it seemed to crumple in his hands like dry brown leaves, only to be scattered by an increasingly cold wind.

Feeling very sorry for himself, he threw himself on his bed and pulled the curtains closed. He was still dressed, but he didn't want to talk to anyone, and he could hear people wandering up the steps to their various dormitory rooms. He just lay lethargically, starting at the red velvet above his head, listening as Dean and Seamus entered the room and tossed their books into their respective trunks.

"No way!" Dean was saying. "I hadn't heard they broke up."

"They did," Seamus said, "just yesterday, but she won't have had time to get a date yet, right?"

"I guess not," Dean said doubtfully. Harry could hear him rustling about in his trunk. "But maybe she won't be ready to go with someone else. I mean, it takes a while to get over a break up, doesn't it?"

"Oh," Seamus said, sounding crestfallen. Harry wondered if they were talking about Ginny or Hermione. He snorted silently; if they were talking about Ginny, they were out of luck, since he assumed Ginny would be going with Malfoy. But if they were talking about Hermione… Harry frowned. If they were talking about Hermione, Seamus might well have a chance. She was Head Girl, after all, and would have to bring a date to the dance. He sat up abruptly, the slight rustling his blankets made covered by the continuing conversation between his dorm mates. He was getting angry all over again. He found he didn't care at all for the idea of Hermione going to the Ball with Seamus.

"Well," Dean was saying, "just to be safe, you'd better ask Ron if it's all clear there. I can understand where you're coming from, though. I mean, she has those robes she wears to Herbology…"

Their conversation continued as they headed toward the men's showers. Harry flung his curtains aside and ran out of the dorm and down the stairs. Ron was no longer sitting at their table, but Hermione was still there. Her books were open in front of her, but she was staring into the fire. Harry flung himself down into the chair next to her.

Hermione smiled, feeling a rush of both pleasure and relief at seeing Harry. She had been sure he wouldn't come down again, not while there was the possibility of running into Ginny, and she couldn't say that she blamed him. The firelight reflected off his glasses and threw his bruises into shadow.

"Hermione," Harry said, encouraged by her welcoming smile. "We don't have dates to the Fall Ball!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Did you come all the way back down here just to tell me that, Harry?"

"No," he frowned. "I came down to ask… I mean, since neither of us has dates, I thought…" He broke off, ran a hand through his hair, and Hermione smiled fondly at seeing it sticking straight up. "I mean, how about if we go together?"

Hermione froze, only her eyes darting from his hair to his one good eye. "What do you mean?"

"Just as friends," Harry added quickly. "Then neither of us has to worry about not having dates and we don't have to deal with going with someone we don't like just so we aren't going alone…" He trailed off, feeling stupid. This had seemed like a good idea when he had thought of it a minute ago. But Hermione was staring at him, her head cocked to one side like she did when she was trying to figure something out. Maybe he should have thought it through more thoroughly.

Then she smiled, and he smiled back, relief flooding into him. She looked happy about the idea, he thought. Maybe it wasn't so stupid after all.

"Just as friends?" she asked. Harry nodded. Her smile grew wider. What a relief that would be, she thought, not to have to worry about whether her date would find her attractive enough, or whether her costume was going to be pretty enough. "Harry, that's a wonderful idea!"

She stood from her chair and pulled him out of his, them threw her arms around his waist. He sucked in a breath as she pressed against his injured rib, but his arms came around her and held her close to his chest. She felt so good, standing there holding him like that. He began to feel the same tingling that had begun with that kiss earlier in the pumpkin patch, more intense this time, but he squashed it ruthlessly. He had no business tingling when he was holding Hermione. She was his friend, his best friend. He was very lucky to have her.

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