Clarity by grnshields

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 24/11/2004
Last Updated: 24/11/2004
Status: Completed

One-shot. Sometimes all we need is a little clarity. Trio thoughts during their sixth year.




1. untitled
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Disclaimer: Don't own them. Just playing in this world.



A/N: Before I go any futher, I would like to thank Chaosblades for the wonderful beta.

This is my first time doing this, so please be kind.









Clarity

By Rose



Connection







They have a connection.



They have something between them that makes other people think there's more there.

I may have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but I'm neither blind nor stupid.



Just in denial.

I passed it off as some weird trait. I mean, she's a worrier and he's the perfect
candidate for worrying about. She has a need to mother and he doesn't have one so, there you
go.



Other people see it. Rita Skeeter, McGonnagal, my mum, various students. Even Krum and Cho. Oh
yes, I know about them. He told me one night while we were still at Grimmauld Place. He was almost
asleep since we had been up late talking, nothing important, just small stuff about the coming
year. I don't even think Cho's name had come up, but he'd suddenly starting talking
about her.



“She stopped speaking to me because of Hermione,” he said drowsily.



I was ready to drop off myself, but that woke me up a bit. He rarely spoke about things like
that, always the 'keep everything inside' kind of person. I sort of sat up in bed and
turned toward him, peering at him through the moonlit gloom of the room we were sharing.



“You mean Cho?” I asked, not quite sure if that was who he meant.



“Yeah,” he was lying on his back staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. He glanced at me briefly
before continuing, “She tried to blame Hermione for what happened to her friend.”



I never knew why they stopped talking. I wondered briefly if Hermione knew about this, but I
didn't ask.



“You know Krum asked me what was going on between us.”



Now I was fully awake, “What?” This was certainly news to me. “When?”



He was silent for so long, that I he had gone to sleep, “Why do people always think we're
together?” he asked quietly.



I had no answer then, but after that, I paid attention. After that, I began to see what everyone
else saw. Whether I wanted to or not.



***



Once Hermione had shown up at Headquarters, he didn't seem as depressed, not exactly
cheerful, because that's not his way, but calmer than he had been. They didn't talk much
that I could tell, but the constant touching was about to drive me mad. Any time they were in close
proximity to each other, there was a hug from her, a hand on the arm from him. Sitting close enough
that they looked like one person. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before and the thing
is—I don't even think they were aware of it. I tried to think of a way to ask them if they were
together, but couldn't come up with anything that didn't make me sound like an idiot. What
evidence did I have? It's not as if they were snogging right in front of me.



It was worse when we got back to school. They would just get up in the middle of lunch and leave
the Great Hall. No explanation. Nothing. At first, it wasn't that often, but as the weeks
progressed, it happened more and more frequently. By this time, I was going crazy wondering where
they went because sometimes they wouldn't come back to Gryffindor Tower until very late. Some
nights they never came back at all.



I was determined to find out what they were doing that kept them out all night. Reasoning that I
was still a prefect, I could be out after hours and not get in trouble, I decided to follow them
one night.



My chance came during winter holidays. She had just come back from making her rounds and it was
almost my turn to go. She climbed through the portrait hole and walked over to where we were trying
to get through another mountain of homework, said a breathless hello, and sat down next to me. I
noticed his frown as she leaned over to see what I was working on. Something I wouldn't have
paid attention to last year, in fact I would have been too irritated that she was about to point
out my mistakes to pay attention to his reaction. However, I was on a mission this time. He slammed
his potions book shut, causing her to jump, startled at the unexpected noise in the quiet of the
common room. Without so much as a farewell, he pushed away from the table, turned, and climbed out
of the portrait hole.



Silence greeted that dramatic exit and I glanced over to see her reaction to what had just
happened. She looked devastated. I was about to comment, when she suddenly stood and left,
following in his wake.



This was it. This was my chance to find out what they had been keeping from me. To see if the
'just friends' line they had been giving for two years was a lie.



I waited until I was sure there was no chance of her spotting me, and then quickly left the
common room. Sprinting silently down the corridor, I caught up with her as she stopped opposite the
familiar tapestry on the seventh floor, paced three times, and waited for the door to open.
Different thoughts swirled around my head as I wondered why she would need this particular room,
when his voice broke the silence.



“Why are you here?” I had never heard him sound so weary.



I hurried to the door before it could shut all the way and stuck my foot between it and the jam.
Fighting back a groan when the heavy door slammed into my foot, I frantically searched my robes for
something to keep it wedged open. Nothing, unless I could convince the chocolate frog in my pocket
to prop the door open for me. This was not good.



“Why did you run off, Harry?” her voice was quiet.



I crouched down, feeling along the floor for something, anything, when I finally made contact
with a piece of stone that must have chipped away from the wall. Quickly shoving it in where my
foot had been, I moved away so I could still hear, but not be seen.



“What was that about in the common room?” he asked, his voice rising in an angry tone that was
all too familiar. I thought it was safe to peek and eased around the corner. I was surprised to see
the room was smaller than it had been last year and the only furniture was a large over stuffed
chair in the middle of the room. It was dimly lit with candles and there was a nice fire going in
the grate.



Hang on. A fire?



They were standing face to face, barely any room between them. I could feel the tension from
where I was crouching. He was towering over her, fist clenched at his sides, looking very
intimidating. She, on the other hand, stood there, calm as can be in the face of his anger.



“I don't know why you're angry,” she said, still in a quiet voice, “but I was not going
to stand here and let you take it out on me.”



She turned toward the door and I whipped around, spotted a statue further down the corridor, and
wondered if I could make it before she saw me. I really didn't fancy trying to explain why I
was there. I could hear footsteps getting closer.



“Wait, Hermione. Please,” he sounded desperate, “I'm sorry. Please stay”



The footsteps had stopped and I debated on whether to sneak a look.



“Oh Harry, you can't keep doing this.” There was now a tremor in her voice. “You need to
talk to someone.”



“I don't need to talk to anyone. I just didn't get any sleep last night,” he paused, and
then went on quietly, “I just need you.”



I froze. I could not be hearing this right. I mean, they would have told me if something was
going on, I know they would. I leaned around the jam again, fully expecting to see them snogging
each other senseless. To my surprise, they were back in front of the chair. He was simply holding
her hand. No snogging. No passionate embrace. Nothing that best friends wouldn't do. I slid the
rest of the way down the wall and sat on the cold stone floor, more confused than ever. What was
going on with him? Why did she seem to know about it and why hadn't either one told me?



“You couldn't sleep?” she asked, sounding stressed now, “Why didn't you come find
me?”



He dropped her hand and turned away, facing the fire. I watched as he raised a trembling hand
and raked it through his hair, frustration and anger visible in every line of his body.



“Why should I deprive you of a good night sleep just because I get this lovely show every night
of watching my Godfather fall through a veil, watching my friends face down Death Eaters,” he
looked up at the ceiling and drew in a shaky breath, “watching you fall.”



She walked over to him and wrapped both arms around his waist, “I told you that if you needed me
at anytime, day or night, I would be there for you.” Her voice was slightly muffled where her face
was pressed against his back, he turned around, ready to protest, but she cut him off. “Come
here.”



She took his hand, tugging him back toward the chair and I leaned back against the wall stunned.
I had no idea he was dreaming about what happened last year. I should have known. I've slept in
the same dorm with him for the last six years. What kind of friend did that make me to not
know?



They continued talking quietly, but I wasn't listening anymore. Instead, I was feeling
guilty. These were my friends and I repaid them by sneaking around trying to catch them in some
clandestine act, so much for learning from your mistakes.



I sat there for a long time thinking about the two people, besides my family, which meant the
world to me. Bloody hell, these two were like my family, we'd been through so much together. I
decided right then to stop being such a big prat and start being a better friend.



After a while, I got up from the floor, thinking of giving them some privacy, even if they
didn't know they were being spied on. When I went to move the piece of stone, I glanced into
the room.



They were both asleep.



I slowly eased into the room and walked over to them. He was sitting in the chair, and she was
on his lap. His arms were around her so tightly, that it was a wonder her circulation wasn't
being cut off. As if even in his sleep, he wasn't willing to let her go. The contented look on
her face, however, said that she didn't mind.



I heard a faint pop and whirled around, wand at the ready, prepared to defend the sleeping
couple behind me. There was no need as it was only Dobby the house elf, holding a finger up to his
lips, as if I needed to be told to let these two sleep. Over his arm was a blanket and I realized
that this probably wasn't the first time these two had done this. I silently held my hand out
and he gave it to me then went about extinguishing the candles, leaving only the light from the
fire. As softly as possible, I spread the blanket around them, hearing another pop telling me that
Dobby had left. I went out into the corridor, kicked the stone out of the way, and watched as the
door sealed itself back into the wall before making my way back to Gryffindor Tower.



While I don't think they have crossed any lines yet, I do think it's only a matter of
time.



They have a connection.



It's a connection that makes a boy remember that a girl he wasn't even talking to was in
the girl's bathroom when a troll was on the loose. It's a connection that makes a girl give
up Christmas with her parents so she could come and talk a boy out of his room when a house full of
people couldn't. It's a connection that makes a boy having horrible nightmares seek out a
girl and that same girl will drop everything to comfort that boy. They have something between them
that makes other people think there's something more there.



And those people would be right.



xxx



Acceptance



*Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall*

*For just to be with you, I'd gladly risk it all*



Why did he grab me? That question had been bothering me greatly. I mean, four other people,
besides myself, were there with him. So why me? It would have helped if he had talk to me after
everything had calmed down a bit. Or if he had answered the hundreds of feet of parchment, I owled
to him with anything other than carefully constructed one-paragraph replies.



Or lies as I like to call them.



Neville would have been a better choice. His dueling skills, while much improved, were still
unknown at the time. Or Ginny. They had already threatened to torture her. But no, he grabbed me.
It made me think that maybe he wasn't that confident of my skills.



I hate not knowing. It was one more worry to add to my collection.



When I arrived at Grimmauld Place, it was strangely quiet. It took a few minutes before I'd
realized it was because someone had finally managed to remove Mrs. Black's portrait from the
entryway. No one was there to greet me and I wandered up to the room I'd shared with Ginny the
year before. Dropping my things on the bed, I noticed a note from her saying that she, Ron, and
Mrs. Weasley had gone to Diagon Alley to get their supplies and would be back later that day.



“How was your summer?” startled, I turned and saw him leaning casually against the doorway. I
hadn't known he'd arrived yet thanks, once again, to his lack of replies.



I studied him warily. He had been so distant when I saw him last that, amazing enough, I
didn't know what to say. He, however, took the choice away by standing up straight and holding
his arms out. Before I could understand what was happening, my face was buried in his chest, and my
arms were wrapped around his waist. When did he get to be so tall?



“Hermione,” he whispered, one hand on the small of my back, the other gently stroking my
hair.



Such a sense of completion swept through me, that I had to fight back tears that threaten to
surface. I didn't understand what was happening. This was Harry, my friend for almost six
years. Then it hit me. Harry had never initiated any contact between us. Confused, I leaned back to
look at him and my breath caught in my throat. I had never seen such an intense look directed my
way. His eyes were dark with some nameless emotion and his arm tightened around me as he searched
my face for something only he knew. I nervously licked suddenly dry lips and his gaze briefly
flickered down before meeting my eyes again. The intensity was gone and he was back to being just
Harry.



“How was your summer?” he asked again, as he let me go and went back to leaning against the
doorway.



That was my cue to change the subject because I really didn't understand what had just
happened. I turned, went back to the bed, and began pulling out the defense books I had managed to
talk Tonks into getting for me. After that, things almost went back to normal as we talked about
the coming year. Eventually, the Weasleys arrived back and offered a buffer that I hadn't
realized was needed.



Later that night, I sat at the window seat in my room staring up into the star strewn sky when I
heard a noise coming from the kitchen below. Thinking that a cup of cocoa sounded like just the
thing to make me sleepy, I decided to join whoever was there. Once I got to the kitchen, however, I
started to rethink my decision. He was sitting down, elbows on the table, his head in his hands.
I've never seen him look so defenseless. I realized that I was being stupid. Harry was my
friend and he needed my help. Whatever jittery feelings I was having were not as important as his
well-being.



Without saying a word, I walked over to the counter and began putting together the makings for
two cups of chocolate. I could hear him shift in his seat behind me, but he didn't speak. Once
I was done, I took the steaming mugs to the table and sat down next to him.



“Thanks,” he said as I handed one to him.



I wasn't sure how to broach the subject of what happened back in June. Every time I tried in
the past, either Ron had stopped me or Harry simply walked away. I knew him. He would let it fester
until something happened that would make him blow. While I understood how frustrated he felt, I
didn't want a repeat of last year.



“Couldn't sleep.” I thought this was a good start.



He twisted in his seat to face me. That intense look was back. I looked away, shifting
uncomfortably in my chair. What was this? Suddenly I couldn't talk to my best friend because
every time he looked at me lately, I got an odd fluttering in my heart.



“I've been having dreams,” he spoke so softly that I could barely hear him.



The fluttering gave way to panic. This could not be happening again. “Is your scar hurting?” I
stood up, thinking of whom we needed to tell. Perhaps I should go through the new books I had. Fear
was beginning to overwhelm me. As I turned to leave, thinking of maybe waking someone, I felt his
hand on my arm.



“They're just normal dreams, Hermione.” He was so close. In my mad rush to do something, I
hadn't even realized that he'd stood also. “I just didn't feel like reliving that night
over again,”



I gave a small 'oh' of sympathy at his remark. “Harry, it's not your fault,” I
began, but he cut me off.



“It was my fault,” he said angrily, “if I had just listened to you.” He drew a shuddering
breath. “I should have listened.”



I hugged him then. I didn't know what else to do. Nothing I could say about that horrible
night would make him feel better, so the only thing I could do was offer comfort. As his arms
tightened around me, I could feel the burning behind my eyes.



He must have sensed the tears, because he leaned back to look at me. “Hermione?” he questioned,
concern in his gaze. “There's no need to cry. They're just dreams.”



I stared at him helplessly, unable to speak pass the lump in my throat. He brought his hand up
to cup my face, thumbs brushing away the tears. Then quickly the atmosphere changed and my unease
was back at *this* thing that had suddenly sprung up between us. His thumb was still caressing
my cheek and he was looking at me as if he'd never seen me before.



He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and let me go.



“Can we go sit in the parlor? He asked.



At my nod, he took my hand and led me upstairs to the front room. The fire that had been blazing
earlier had dwindled down to coals and letting go of my hand, he went to attend to it.



“Do you have the same dream every night?” I asked tentatively. I knew he didn't want to talk
about it, but it was better than asking outright how he was feeling about Sirius.



He didn't say anything for a long time. When he finally spoke, it wasn't to answer my
question, but to tell me what he and Dumbledore had discussed at the end of that dreadful night. He
kept his back to me, speaking emotionlessly, and my chest tightened with every terrible word that
emerged from his mouth. I listened without making a sound. Some of it I had already known, some was
new to me. It wasn't until he got to the end of Trelawny's prediction that I felt I could
breathe again. He might believe her, but I didn't. I mean, honestly, she's been predicting
Harry's death since our third year. I, for one, would wait until we got back to school and the
library before I believed one word coming out of that old fraud's mouth.



Right now, my immediate concern was he alone. I stepped toward him and took a deep breath to
calm my nerves. “Harry,” I said fiercely, “anytime you can't sleep, day or night, I want you to
come find me. You are not alone in this. I'll be beside you every step of the way. You know
that, right?



He didn't answer.



Instead, he straightened and turned toward a large chair in front of the fire. Sitting down, he
looked back at me and held out his hand. I knew what he was silently asking and hesitated. Was I
ready to cross that line? Did I want to immerse myself further into his life now that I knew? I
looked down into the face of the boy I had known for almost six years, at his eyes pleading with me
to take what he was offering and I had my answer. We had already crossed that line and my life had
been a part of his from the start. I put my hand in his and he tugged me down onto his lap. I
started to say something, but he shushed me, telling me without words that he understood the
enormity of what we were doing.



The last thing I felt before sleep overtook me was the gentle brush of his lips against my
forehead and his hand lightly stroking my hair.



I have accepted my fate. No matter what the future holds for us, we'll meet it.
Together.



xxx



Love



*I'm under your spell, nothing I could do*

*You just took my soul with you*



When I told her about the prophecy, Hermione's first response was that Trelawney was an old
fraud. While I agreed with her, I did have to point out the at least one other prediction had come
true. After that, her fixation with the library turned into a full-blown obsession on my behalf.
I'm still not sure how I feel about that one since she usually makes me go with her.



How do you tell your best friend that you're in love with her? How do you tell her that
she's the only thing keeping you from chucking the whole thing and going to live as a Muggle in
Outer Mongolia and damn the prophecy? That the only peace you get lately is the few times you can
sit with her, stroking her hair and watching her sleep. I think she knows already. My Hermione is a
very smart witch, especially when it comes to feelings and stuff.



Sometimes, though, I'm not so sure.



Sometimes I think that maybe all she feels is pity. Hermione is a very loving person and nothing
would stop her from helping someone in need. So, like a coward, I've been taking advantage of
it and hoping she doesn't get tired of my neediness. I've been too afraid to ask what this
all means to her. I would rather not know than have her tell me that she's simply comforting a
friend.



Friend.



She hasn't been my friend since that night almost a year ago. It wasn't until I was back
with my hated relatives, with no distractions, that I realized how close I had come to losing her.
I admit that I'm clueless about feelings, so it still took a few more days for me to figure out
why that thought was so painful. And that's when the dreams started.



She still thinks the dreams are about everything that happened that night. At first, they were,
but slowly they began to change until now, they simply consisted of watching her fall over and
over. That's what I see every time I close my eyes. The panic, the feeling of helplessness,
it's all there every night. Every time, I would wake with the urge to see her, to touch her and
reassure myself that she was okay.



I know she was surprised when I first hugged her. She's the affectionate one. She's
spent years clutching my arm in fear or cutting off my circulation in happiness, but not once have
I ever initiated anything between us unless it was to protect her. Weeks of nightmares took care of
that flaw.



I think Ron knows. I'm not sure, but I had the feeling he'd been watching us at the
beginning of the term. I didn't know what to say because everything I was feeling was too new
so, like I seemed to be doing a lot lately, I've kept quiet and hoped it didn't come up.
Fortunately for me, he seems to be distracted by a certain 5th year Ravenclaw.



I've never kissed her. At least not on the lips in a boyfriend/girlfriend way. I keep
telling myself that as long as I don't kiss her, we haven't crossed any lines.



Who am I kidding?



I'm afraid that if I kiss her, I'll lose myself so completely in her, that if anything
ever happened...no, I'm not going to complete that thought. Nothing will happen to her. Not if
I have anything to say about it.



“Harry.”



It was the Easter holidays. We had one week to ourselves without the fear of someone finding out
about my obsession with her, which is a good thing because lately I've been acting like a
jealous lover whenever her time is taken up with something other than me. No need to give the
public anymore stories about what a nutter I am.



I didn't turn. I could hear her coming closer until I felt her arms encircle me. I closed my
eyes, savoring the feel of her so near. I could smell the light scent of her shampoo wafting over
me and I knew I was getting weaker where she's concerned. I'd spent the last eight months
trying to maintain some control over myself, but I was stupid to think I could simply hold her and
not want more.



I am such a selfish bastard.



How could I think of wanting more with her when, if there's even a whisper of anything
between us, her life would be forfeit? How could I contemplate putting her in danger so I could
satisfy some lustful urge? She has spent the last six years trying to save my life and I want to
repay her by taking this further and endangering hers.



“Ron and Ginny just left.” She was absently making small circles on my stomach and it fluttered
under her touch. “They were looking for you to say goodbye.”



I barely listened to her. I was too busy thinking what would happen if Voldemort or his Death
Eaters found out what she meant to me. I'd finally concluded that it didn't matter that I
wanted more—I couldn't do it. Protecting her had become the most important thing in the world.
Even if it meant protecting her from me.



Slowly, I turned in her arms, looked down into her beautiful face, and prepared to cut my heart
out by telling her my decision. Once again though, Hermione took matters into her own hands. Taking
her arms from around my waist, she cupped my face and gently brushed her lips against mine.
Tentative at first, as if she wasn't sure how I would react, and then more boldly while I stood
frozen with shock.



My vaulted control withered and died.



Burying a hand in the wildness of her hair and an arm around her waist, I crushed her to me. Her
gasp of surprise was all the invitation I needed. My mouth covered hers with a hunger I didn't
know I possessed and my tongue swept in to taste her.



Soft. Sweet. Hot. My brain could only come up with one-word sentences. This was no gentle first
kiss. This was something that was threatening to consume us both after a year of dancing around
each with friendly pecks and comforting hugs. Blood pounding in my head, I barely felt her arms
around my neck, fingers running through my hair as I tried to get even closer to her.



I tore my lips away from hers, breathing harshly, and planted tiny kisses along her jaw to a
spot just beneath her ear. I could hear that her breathing wasn't any steadier than mine was as
she lowered her hands and began unbuttoning my shirt.



“Hermione,” I said roughly, “don't.” I wasn't sure what would happen if I felt her hands
on my bare skin. I would more than likely spontaneously combust. Naturally, she ignored me and
continued right on with her task of seeing me with less clothing. Her hands tighten on my shirt
when I found a particularly sensitive spot in the hollow of her throat before undoing the rest by
ripping the material apart and sending buttons flying everywhere.



Neither of us gave a damn.



So distracted by the feel of Hermione's skin underneath my lips and the gasps and moans she
made every time I found a particularly sensitive spot that took a few minutes for me to remember
that this wasn't what I wanted. Only moments before, I'd made a promise to myself that I
wouldn't do this. How could I protect her if I couldn't even stick to my word?



I stumbled back and out of her reach, ignoring the protest of my body to go back and finish what
we started. I met her gaze and saw confusion in her eyes. Her lips were swollen from our kisses and
I wanted nothing more than to run my thumb over their softness to sooth them.



“Harry?” She began, but I interrupted her.



“We can't do this, Hermione,” my voice was barely above a whisper. I stood there, fumbling
with my half-torn shirt thinking this was going to more painful than anything I've ever done.
“I can't do this.” I couldn't look at her. She would know in an instant that I was
lying.



“Why?” She asked simply. But I could hear the hurt in her voice.



Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her take a step toward me. I, in turn, stepped back knowing
if she touched me, whatever promises I made to myself would go up in flames. I didn't know what
lie to give her that would make her believe.



“Are you trying to protect me, Harry?” My eyes snapped up meet hers. The hurt was still there,
but there was also a healthy dose of anger. I mentally groaned. She shouldn't be able to read
me so well. My face must have shown my guilt because even as I watched, the anger began to
overshadow the hurt. Great. Now I had an angry, aroused, and frustrated Hermione on my hands.



I watched her warily, not knowing if she was going to turn me into something slimy or forget
magic altogether and simply punch me.



Instead, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and made a conscience effort to calm down.
When she opened her eyes, the anger had subsided a bit and I let out a breath I wasn't aware of
holding.



“Harry,” she said quietly, “if both Ron and I were taken, do you think they would torture him
any less than me?”



Her question confused me. It also made me think. I suddenly realized what she was trying to say.
Voldemort knew that Ron and Hermione have been my best friends for six years. After how I reacted
to Sirius' death, he knew the perfect way to get to me was through my friends. That included
Ginny, Neville, and Luna too. It didn't matter if we were close or not. If his Death Eaters
thought it would weaken me, they would torture all of them.



She took another step toward me, but I didn't back up this time. “You can't always
protect me, Harry.” She tentatively put her arms around me and, seeing that I wasn't going to
bolt, lay her head on my chest. “You just have to trust that I can take care of myself.” As if she
remembered something else, her head came up and she looked at me sharply. “And don't go
thinking you can distance yourself from me either because I won't allow it.”



I smiled then. Of course she wouldn't let me do something so stupid. Seeing that, she rose
up and whispered in my ear. “Are you done playing the hero so we can get back to what was so rudely
interrupted?”



I laughed outright at that. “Sorry,” I said cupping her face and leaning closer, “it was that
saving-people-thing rearing its ugly head again,”



“Well, try not to let it happen when we're in the middle of something,



xxx



I remembered Ron telling me just before Christmas, that he thought something was going on
between his friends. At the time, I couldn't imagine why he felt the need to confide in me, but
I was amused nonetheless. I mean, my brother can be quite clueless about anything that doesn't
include Quidditch or food, so I simply rolled my eyes and didn't reply. I suppose I could have
told him that something had been 'going on' between those two since I've known them. Or
that Neville told me how Harry had been when he thought Hermione was dead. But it was fun watching
him do the stealthy thing when he thought no one was looking, so I kept my mouth shut.



“Ready for the holidays?”



I turned with a smile and nodded to Neville. We were waiting for the carriages to take us to
Hogsmeade Station. I turned back to watch the three of them standing off by themselves. If those
two were together, you couldn't tell, and I thought it was very appropriate for them. That, to
me, means there wasn't a great leap from friends to something more.



I'd also noticed a change in Ron in the last few months. Oh, don't get me wrong,
he's still a great git that speaks before he thinks. No, it's the way he treats his best
friends now.



It's almost...protective?



'Yeah, that sounds about right,' I think to myself as I grab Neville's arm and pull
him toward the waiting carriages.



-End-