Tumbling Over the Line

Wow, I got such a TOTALLY positive response to the first fic I posted here, I thought I’d go ahead and post another one. I literally just finished this up this morning. I’m really stuck on the idea of Harry having competition when it comes to Hermione’s affections, so it’s another one of those. And it’s another Harry POV, because that’s what I feel most comfortable doing (for reasons completely unknown to me). I’m sure I’ll break into real plot someday, I’m still just testing the waters of all this.

disclaimer: well, they’re not mine, they’re JKR’s. that’ll do right?

Also, can I just say- HOLY CRAP – will you look at the esteemed reviewers I got on that first fic? My roommate thinks I’m nuts, having no idea who NAPPA, babygrrl, etc. are. Poor girl. AND a thread in the forum. And my linguistics final was declared a take-home. Best day!

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It has an odd way of asserting of itself, this love I have for Hermione. It pops up at the damndest times (other, um, ‘things’ pop at the damndest times as well, but, I digress).

Sometimes it’s like there’s nothing there, like she’s just a friend, hell, she could be Neville for all the attention I’m giving the matter. Sometimes I’m actually intensely irritated with her, to a point where it makes my skin crawl – You want me to do *what* before the biggest quidditch match of the year? Study?! Surely, you jest. But, other times, MOST of the time, I just…I just love her.

There’s a Buzzcocks song that goes something along the lines of “ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn’t’ve fallen in love with?” Yes, Pete Shelley, I have. And therein lies the problem. Definitely shouldn’t of done that.

And why, exactly, is that?

Cause Ron went and did it too.

How poetic. The two best friends fall for the same girl. It’s been done over and over (…and over…) in literature throughout the ages. Muggle movies, music, it’s everywhere. Hell, it’s a cliché, trite, something that has no place in my life. I have dark lords and NEWTs to worry about, I needn’t be fretting over my love life (or lack thereof). But, alas, here I am, I mean, what am I blathering on about here, if not ‘girl problems?’

I guess I should probably give you a rundown of the past…well, however many years it’s been since you last checked in with me. We’re all 7th years now, though I remain firmly convinced that if not for Hermione’s brilliant mind and pervasive studying techniques, Ron would still be a 5th year. And I’d probably be dead several times over, but that’s another story.

Anyway, following the disaster that was 4th year, as you may know, I was the lucky recipient of a kiss on the cheek from Hermione.

Ron was not.

There was no stunning revelation of my love for her following departure from the platform. I had silently acknowledged at the Yule Ball that Hermione would make a fine girlfriend. It was just a thought I had, I didn’t pay much mind to it, and the events that followed shortly after just served to distract my adolescent mind further.

Acknowledging that you’re physically attracted to someone and that their personality characteristics are congruent to yours is not akin to loving them.

No, that was to come later.

Back to the cheek smooch- Ron just wouldn’t let it go. Of all the owls I received from him that summer, I’d say only a small percent did not contain a reference to it.

What did she mean by that?

Was she playing games with him?

What was so repulsive about his cheek?

What was so enchanting about mine?

Shortly into the summer I developed a system wherein I would skim his letters, notice the word ‘kiss,’ and promptly write out a uniform template response – ‘I’m sure Hermione was just overwhelmed, I don’t think she was being malicious, etc.’ Needless to say I was just the slightest bit irritated by Ron. I mean, was it really necessary to spend all summer talking about how he DIDN’T get a kiss? Couldn’t we, just once, talk about how I DID, and how that made me feel?

No.

We couldn’t.

Because Ron had tunnel vision. He liked Hermione. That was all he saw. I, on the other hand, was still dipping my toes into the shallow end of the pool of my feelings. Ron was flailing around, trying not to drown, in the deep end.

For every letter I got that summer, I think Hermione received about six. She started forwarding them to me, asking advice on how to deal with this new myopic Ron. His letters to her ranged from livid at the beginning of break to almost mushy by the end.

I’ll never know, or at least I don’t now, if Hermione had actual feelings for Ron or if he’d just worn her down, but by the end of summer, and arrival back at Hogwarts, they were “dating.”

Dating to Ron and Hermione meant that a strict schedule of fighting and snogging was adhered to daily.

I wasn’t particularly crushed: the, uh, full bloom of my love had yet to be recognized. It was almost like someone grabbing the snitch before me, I was upset, but there’d be other matches.

And other matches there were.

I can file most of my indiscretions that year under three headings – “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” personified in an incident involving too much actual butter beer and a clingy, smarmy Hufflepuff. The second – “You live and you learn,” entailing a lesson in dating girls who only saw the scar, and lastly, “Whoops,” which is exactly what it sounds like.

By the time I had experienced the third ‘Whoops’ of the year, I had lost track of the number of times Hermione and Ron had broken up. It was always instigated by Hermione and always involved a messily sobbing Ron waking me up at all hours to console him.

5th year ended quickly, in a blur, incidentally during an off period for the disastrous duo, and I was back home for the summer.

As it turns out, if you’re going to shoot up to around six feet tall while your cousin remains a pudgy 5’4,” it is not a good idea to live with him. The curtain of resentment and disgust that fell in that house almost smothered me, and Hermione, bless her heart, took pity on me, and arranged with her parents to let me stay at their house for the last month of vacation.

That’s where things started to get messy.

Or rather, I let myself get sloppy.

I had labeled Hermione in my mind as someone not to become romantically involved with. Literally: in my mind there was picture of her and a label stating “Do NOT Date” was plastered across the front. As good as I thought it could be, it just wasn’t worth upsetting Ron over further. That boy was a powder keg when it came to her.

That last month, however, the labeled started peeling off. She had arranged for me to sleep in the den, which incidentally was next to her room, this allowed for countless late night conversations in the hallway, starting when one of us would pass the other to brush our teeth or some equally trivial thing and ending when one of us fell asleep. I haven’t ever felt that close to anyone.

Ever.

And not just physically close (though we did often end up sitting on the ground, our backs against the hallway wall, close enough for our shoulders to brush), but mentally, emotionally close. I realize that this isn’t a blinding surprise to anyone. A situation such as mine with no parents and under the care of those blasted Dursleys, wasn’t conducive to deep emotional bonding.

We were experiencing an opportunity unlike any we had encountered at school. There was no potions exam to study for, no quidditch match to train for, no Ron to hover about.

We could just talk.

And I could just fall in love with her.

The line between platonic love and romantic love is very thin, blurred, and often precariously straddled. What can I say? I’m a daredevil, baby. I was walking the line. On one side was this idyllic land where Hermione and I were together and Ron had contented himself elsewhere and on the other side was an angry Ron, with a face red enough to match his hair and fist fit to match my face.

And, hell, I haven’t even BEGUN to talk about what I think Hermione feels about all this…

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That seems like an all right place to end this chapter, feel free to leave a review… :o)

effectivelyabsent@yahoo.com

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Hermione’s feelings are a little trickier, being as that, regardless of what Professor Trelawney says, I’m not clairvoyant. So what I’ve got is just some imaginative conjecture based on fact. I guess I’ll just present the evidence and then sum up what I think it means, you know, like a good school paper or something.

Here’s the first thing: Hermione doesn’t seem to genuinely have romantic feelings for Ron. Ok, ok, I know I said “seem” and that implies speculation, but it’s just so obvious. It could very well BE fact for all I know. It seems like she’s just going through the motions. They snog, they fight, they snog, they fight. And then they break up (we’ll come back to that). I don’t think I’ve ever been witness to an actual heart-felt word spoken between the two of them. Which leads me to my second point:

Hermione and I have been engaged in some rather *intense* conversations. It started that summer after 5th year, continued on through 6th year, and led us here. I know all about her hopes for the future, she knows about my lack of ambition. I know all about the nightmares she has where I die, or her parents die, and she knows I have the same ones about her. I know how sensitive she is about her hair (which I happen to think is endearing). She knows that I regularly got the shit kicked out of me in primary school. She knows stuff I’ve never told anyone (stuff I’m obviously not going to reveal here). And I think I can safely say the same about my knowledge of her. Not that I’m bragging or anything, but I think I would definitely get top marks on a Hermione Granger exam. Boy do I wish that was a class.

Moving on.

Point three – Hermione is the only that notices when I get my hair cut. Trivial? Yes. But important nonetheless. My hair is such an unruly messy mop that *I* can barely tell after I’ve had it cut, so if she can, it means she’s paying attention not only to what I say, but how I look. And since physical attraction is obviously a part of this whole ‘love’ thing, I figured it was worth mentioning. Plus, it makes me happy when she comments on it.

An addendum to point three would be this thing I know, but that I’m not supposed to. Hidden in Hermione’s trunk, at the the bottom (I swear I was in there for good reason! I can’t remember it right now, but it was definitely legit. Definitely.), is a stack of muggle magazines, with nothing really in common except they all contain articles about a certain muggle actor. Said actor is about six feet tall, has black hair, green eyes, is a little on the lanky side, and has a reputation for being a little clumsy. (ok, ok, I read the articles. Happy, now?!) Does that sound like anyone we know?

Ah, yes.

Me.

It could just be a coincidence, she could have a purely academic interest in the magazines. But isn’t it much more fun to speculate that she doesn’t?

Fourth point: We touch each other a lot. Not so obviously that it would garner Ron’s attention, or anyone else’s for that matter, but enough. She’ll sit right up next to me if we’re sitting on a couch. I’ll touch her leg if I’m laughing at something she just said. Little stuff like that. Remember the “It seemed like a good idea at the time” incident with the Hufflepuff and the butterbeer? Hermione actually let me hold her hand on the walk back from the quidditch pitch after she saved me from myself and my hormones. I think she thought it was because I needed to establish a center of balance. Sure, fine, whatever she wants to tell herself. I knew what the hell I was doing.

Point five – She smells really, REALLY good. It’s this whole woodsy/musk/vanilla/clean aroma and it’s my favorite smell in the world. All right, all right. Not a point.

The REAL point five – Ah, screw it. No more points. I think Hermione likes me back. I just do. And if she doesn’t, I think she definitely could. It’s nothing I can articulate and it’s nothing I can enumerate, but it’s there. It is. We have a real potential, her and I.

So with that settled, it just leaves the issue of Ron. And what an issue it is. The “issue” is currently standing in the common room raving about how seventh years should be treated with “some real respect” (apparently, he had his shoe stepped on by an over-zealous third year). At least he’s not raving about Hermione for a change.

Did I mention that she broke it off with him “for good” at the end of last year? No? I didn’t mention that? That’s odd considering it was the best thing to happen all 6th year.

Not that I wish ill things on Ron.

I don’t.

He’s still my best friend. It’s just that it was clear that that relationship was all wrong (not that I’m biased or anything). No, seriously though. Toward the end there Hermione spent all her time upset and Ron would vacillate moodily between rage and depression. The kicker is though he still claims to have feelings for her. Claims he’s “still in love with her.”

Which is obviously the source of my problems.

See, I’m Harry Potter. I’m a nice guy. That’s just my lot in life. Destined to do the right thing. Be the honorable one. While Ron gets to pout AND get the girl. Again, I want to make clear that I don’t begrudge him his happiness. If I genuinely thought he and Hermione were right together, I WOULD do the honorable thing.

But they’re not.

And I think I should at least have my shot. My shot to cross that line, that mysteriously drawn, but explicitly visible line, the one between friendship and love. The one I straddled for long enough. I want to CROSS it. I think it’s about damn time.

I think Ron is just clinging to the one thing that was his and his alone, it wasn’t a hand-me-down from the twins, it wasn’t a left-over. His relationship with Hermione was the first thing he could lay sole claim to. And rather than moving on and finding himself more happiness, he’s just clinging to this last straw of his first taste of it.

And inadvertently denying me mine.

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There’ll be some real story (with real-life action!) soon and not rambling monologue, I promise. Well, actually, probably less (but still some) rambling monologue. What can I say? It’s what I do. Thanks!

effectivelyabsent@yahoo.com

Here’s a tip – don’t try and outline fanfiction in a lecture hall. It’s just not worth it, constantly looking over your shoulder, trying to figure out if the guy behind you is snickering at the professor, or where you’ve written words like “snogging,” “muggle,” and “Hufflepuff” in the margin of your notebook. Not that that happened or anything. Noooo, sir. . .

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You know, I think all this blathering on is doing me some good. I think I’m subconsciously dealing with my problems and it’s manifesting itself in some sort of vibe I’m putting off that is actually inciting change in those around me.

I guess that didn’t make any sense out of context, did it?

Well, see, something phenomenal happened today.

Two things actually.

I have to say the first before my head explodes, it’s making me *that* happy.

Hermione kissed me.

Sure, it was on the cheek again. But she’s only done that that one other time. And this time I hadn’t just been through a life-threatening ordeal. All I’d done was get top marks on an exam she’d helped me study for. The funny thing is, I didn’t even need her help studying. I knew that material cold. It was just another one of my brilliant plots to spend more time with Hermione. And whaddya know? It worked. Class ended, she bounded over to me and asked (in that lovely voice of hers) how I’d done and when I told her, she squealed in happiness, proclaiming “Oh, Harry! I’m so proud of you!” And promptly kissed me on the cheek.

Not to brag, but I handled that like one smooth fella. Yeah, I blushed. And stammered a “Uh, thanks, Hermione.”

And if that weren’t enough, Ron actually showed interest in another girl today. All right, maybe “interest” is too strong a word, but he definitely checked out a 6th year Ravenclaw. Looked her up and down, he did. I can’t remember the last time I saw him do that. Fleur in 4th year maybe?

And wonder of wonders, he finally turned off the damn Joy Division. If I had to hear Ian Curtis bemoan how love will tear us apart one more time I was going to start taking hostages. That’s fine if you want to drown your sorrows in music, I guess it’s better than drowning them in butterbeer, but at least switch it up once in a while or pick something that isn’t going to make everyone around you kill themselves as well. I swear to god if I ever have cause for a break-up song it’s definitely going to be ‘Train in Vain.’ There’s no beating The Clash. See how I’ve thought this out? I can wallow in my depression and other people can dance to it. Ron wasn’t so thoughtful. But, that’s neither here nor there, because it’s over now. Thank god.

So, progress has been made. Not much, but some. A kiss and some blessed silence.

And you know what progress calls for, don’t you? Everybody say it together now – a plan!

Now I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not the most analytical thinker. I do a lot of following my gut. But I can’t very well approach this whole ‘in love with Hermione/dealing with Ron’ thing the same way I do when I dart off after a snitch. So once I realized a plan was in order, I didn’t hesitate to spend the rest of the day thinking about it. I sacrificed paying attention in Potions AND Transfiguration, all in the name of love. What can I say? I’m a martyr for the cause. And what have I come up with so far?

Very little.

I’ve decided my next move is to return one of these cheek kisses to Hermione. The next little thing she does that deserves even the slightest pat on the back, she’s getting a kiss from yours truly for. Maybe a hug too. I’ll see how she responds to that. There’s also this idea I have to try and take her hand when I’m not inebriated. That may be pushing it a little though. I like to have an out in case someone calls me on all this shit.

“She perfected one of the hardest spells we’ve learned this year! *That’s* why I kissed her!” (Yes, yes, exactly that, not because I love her more than Crabbe and Goyle love cake).

Of course, I don’t think it would be devastating if it was actually Hermione who called me on it. It would give me an opening to feel out where she stands on this whole issue. If she’s like, “Harry! What ARE you doing?!” I’d take that as a bad sign and back off (. . . a little), but if she says, “Harry, I can see you and I are having similar thoughts as of late and I was wondering if I could interest you in a lifelong commitment and some heavy snogging?” Well, that would be a good thing. (A completely implausible thing, but a good thing nonetheless. What are fantasies for if not to get your way?)

I hate to admit it, but I think Hermione’s going to be the easy part. It’s Ron I’m dreading. The only idea I have where he’s concerned is to try and push him in the direction of that Ravenclaw (and obviously to keep him from seeing this upcoming cheek kiss). I’m going to broach the subject of him talking to the Ravenclaw tonight in the dorm and feel out the situation.

I’m just hoping I won’t get clocked upside the head for my efforts.

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The bands mentioned – Joy Division and The Clash (and The Buzzcocks in Chapter 1) are definitely worth checking out. I think I remember seeing Daniel Radcliffe say he liked the Buzzcocks (and The Clash too, for that matter) in an interview once, if that gives anyone incentive. Trust me, you’ll be glad once you’ve seen the light that is vintage punk rock.

effectivelyabsent@yahoo.com

Here’s Chapter 4, there’s some real dialogue in it! And yeah, when you get done you’re gonna think Ron’s a moron, but what can I say, I write ‘em like I see ‘em, and he’s not my favorite character. Also, there’s an ‘F’-word in here somewhere, there’s just no stopping me. I remember reading somewhere that PG-13 movies are allowed to say it once, so I’ve used it up this chapter.

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She beat me to it. She bloody beat me to it.

She kissed me again!

We had an early morning quidditch practice and for whatever reason (really, who knows what forces drive girls to do anything?) Hermione came and watched. I had just grabbed the snitch (and effectively ended practice) in what I considered a pretty damn impressive spin/roll/lunge move and was sweating and dirty when Hermione ran over, told me “That was fantastic, Harry!” and kissed me on my cheek.

The left one this time, if anyone’s keeping track.

My first thought was “Hell, yeah! I am THE MAN,” followed immediately by a gripping panic as I whipped my head around looking to see if Ron saw.

He hadn’t. And I sent up a silent thanks to whatever deity or force is keeping me out of harm’s way this week. Ron’s a beater now and has not only shot up to three inches past my six feet, but he’s also put on some hulking muscle mass. I’m “lean” (which is a euphemism people use when they don’t want to say lanky and awkward). I will, however, say, in my behalf, that I’m quicker, both on foot and with my wand.

Not that I think he would hit me. Or rather, not that I think he would hit me *in front of everyone.* He’s got a temper, that boy does.

Now, contrary to popular belief (among the Slytherins anyway), I am NOT an idiot. I realize she’s going out of her way to do this. And she doesn’t care who sees it. I figured I could at least have the courtesy to do the same. So, during the day, when we split and I go to Divination and she goes to. . . um, Ancient Runes? I don’t know (all I know is she’s in a class and it’s not mine), I pulled her into a corridor and suavely said “Have a good class, Hermione,” and leaned over and kissed her (right cheek, closer to the ear than the nose/mouth. . .in case, you were, ya know, wondering. . .).

And do you know what I got for my efforts? A huge beaming goofy smile and a blush! She had the same exact look on her face that I had on mine! (well, presumably, I mean my cheeks were hot and I was smiling and since it’s usually pretty goofy I figured . . . )

So I tripped off to class, feeling pretty proud of myself (and trying to ignore the fact that we were acting like schoolchildren with this whole pecking thing), when I walked right into Ron.

A glowering, angry, TALL, Ron.

“What was that, Harry?”

Ok, maybe the Slytherins are right, maybe I am a *bit* of an idiot. “Uh, erm, um, what was what, Ron?”

“THAT. That kiss you just gave Hermione. Sending her off to class like you’re her mother now, are you?”

“Well. . . no, not quite. Oi! Isn’t that the new Ravenclaw transfer? She’s a looker, isn’t she?”

“Huh? Where?”

“Right there, behind the gargoyle on the stairwell corner.” Yeah, I was lying through my teeth. Sue me.

“Harry, I think you’re seeing things. Now about this Hermione thing, what’s going on there, mate?”

I was SO close.

“Going on? Erm, nothing’s ‘going on.’ I was just seeing her off to class.” My voice only broke once that whole sentence.

“Oh? S’that all? All right then. I thought for a minute you were starting (STARTING?! Can you believe that? “Starting.” Is he ever dense. Anyway - ) to fancy her and I was going to see if you’d do me a favor.”

Wait, wait, wait. He thinks I’m fancying his ex-girlfriend, the one that last time I heard he was “still in love with” and all he wants from me is a favor. I mean, sure, the last time he’d said that was at the beginning of term and we were coming up on Christmas now, but I assumed I’d be informed if things had changed. And then I thought, well, maybe the favor is to throw myself off a cliff.

“Really? A favor? What would it have been?”

“It’s nothing important really, it’s just the poor girl’s still hung up on me and I thought maybe if you took her out to Hogsmeade or something, got her mind off it, maybe she’d be able to move on.”

Is he fucking serious with all this? SHE’S hung up on HIM?! Who the hell is this chump and what did he do with my best friend? I can’t believe the arrogance he’d said that with. It was like I was living in an alternate reality. Up was down, right was wrong, black was white, stop was. . .right, you’ve got it then. I didn’t know if this was some attempt at macho posturing or if he sincerely felt that Hermione was still wrapped up in him and he’d been over her for a semester now. I couldn’t resist.

“What makes you think that?” I tried so hard not to sound accusatory or amused in any way.

“Harry, you don’t have to put on for me, I see you two together all the time, talking in low voices and whatnot. I know you’re talking about me. I appreciate you helping her get through this, she’s been taking this way too hard for way too long now.”

Did he forget that SHE broke up with HIM? He’s very obviously off his nut. What was with the depressing music then? But I am not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, lest the horse (or Hermione, as the case were) be taken away.

“It’s no problem, it really is a shame. It’s good YOU were able to move on though. Any new prospects on the horizon?” God, I really feel dirty after this conversation.

“Definitely. That’s why I was so excited when you’d mentioned the Ravenclaw transfer. You didn’t happen to see which way she went, did you?”

“Uh, down the stairs, I think, but, Ron . . . class . . .” I trailed off, but he had already gone.

My best friend, the guy that’s like a brother to me, the first person to be nice to me in my entire life (save for Hagrid of course, who could forget that cake?), has turned into a delusional letch.

I can’t do much but shake my head in amazement.

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effectivelyabsent@yahoo.com

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“Ron said I was WHAT?”

Oh, come on, you really didn’t think I wasn’t going to tell her, did you?

“I don’t know Hermione, I don’t want you to yell at him or anything, he just said something to the effect of you still being enamored of him.”

“Ha! That’s a laugh! I’m not sure if I was ever enamored of him. Maybe not even in the beginning, part of me thinks he just wore me down.”

See?! SEE?! Isn’t that EXACTLY what I said? Yes, I think it is. I do feel bad for Ron though, he really is a good guy deep down. Deep, deep, deep down.

“Well, I think this is just his way of working through things. If you tell a lie enough times, you can convince yourself to believe it.”

Yeah like, I’m not in love with Hermione. I’m not in love with Hermione. I’m not in love with Hermione. Wait, that didn’t work . . .

“I just don’t understand why this is even a topic of conversation anymore. It was done with a long time ago.”

“I don’t quite understand that either, Hermione, all I can think is that you’re probably a really tough person to get over.”

That was probably saying too much. Maybe she won’t notice.

“Aww, Harry, that was nice of you to say.”

Shit.

Wait, she’s on the move. . .

And another cheek kiss! He shoots, he SCOOOORES! GOAL!

Well, might as well move this thing off the bench and into play.

“Um, Hermione, would you, uh, want to go, to Hogsmeade, or you know, wherever, this weekend, erm. . . with me?”

God, this selective stammering thing is fast becoming a pain in the ass.

“Of course, Harry! Do you need to pick somethi. . .”

I was once told off-handedly by Seamus that I should never play poker. Something about my face being too easy to read. I think Hermione just proved him right. I can tell you right now my face blanched as soon as she started speaking.

She misunderstood me.

She thought I meant as friends. And then she figured it out.

And now we’re stuck in an awkward silence.

“Herm, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought, you know, it’s seventh year, maybe there’s more for us than where we are, maybe we should explore it.”

Or maybe I should just stick my foot in my mouth and chew.

She still hasn’t moved to say anything since she stopped mid-sentence.

“Wait, no, let’s just forget I said that. Want to go down to dinner now?”

And then it happened.

She launched herself at me and grabbed me in a hug.

“No, no, no, Harry, I don’t want to forget. I think this IS something we should explore. That summer really sparked something in me. You and I, we just click. Ron, that was just. . . it didn’t fit. I love him, but not quite like that. But, this, this just makes sense to me, and you know how I like things that are logical.”

THWAP!

Well, I’ve mentally smacked myself now, but she’s still staring at me expectantly, so I guess she really did say that. I don’t think I can deal with this level of honesty. I totally wasn’t prepared. I was going to lay out another ‘plan’ before we had the talk about feelings!

And I’ve been stunned into silence.

“Well, Harry, I’ll give you some time to think about what I said, I know Ron is your best friend and you wouldn’t want to hurt him. I don’t either. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

Say something, say something, say something. . .

“Wait! Hermione! . . . you’re my best friend too.”

And those were my parting words as I watched the fat lady swing shut.

Smooth, Harry, really smooth. Dumb ass.

Now what? This was all great in theory. With my feelings firmly on the shelf and all. How did this get all turned around? *I* was supposed to be in control. But that really is what I love about Hermione, she takes things that are scary or hard and makes them go away. Well, in this case she actually made them scarier, but I’m sure it’s a good kind of scared.

I just didn’t think we’d ever get here.

I honestly thought, for all my day-dreaming and planning and posturing, that she just didn’t feel the same way. That she couldn’t feel the same way.

That’s a lie.

I knew how she felt.

And now it’s been confirmed and I’m out of my mind. What if I mess this up? What if I already did? I didn’t exactly give her a warm reaction. And is Ron really going to be ok with this? Doubtful.

You know that Talking Heads song? The one about letting the days go by and water flowing and all that? That’s exactly how I feel -

And you may ask yourself, how do I work this?

…And you may ask yourself am I right? Am I wrong?

….And you may say to yourself -

MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?

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The Talking Heads song, if no one recognizes it, is ‘Once In A Lifetime,’ you’d probably all recognize it if you heard it. I just think that song has some part everyone can relate to on some level, and I think it fit here. This chapter didn’t come out quite like I wanted, but my mind apparently has a mind of its own. Hope people are still reading!

effectivelyabsent@yahoo.com

Well, we’re nearing the end here. I just wanted to say something really quickly that was brought up in a review on ff.net re: the ability to listen to music at Hogwarts - Hermione definitely did say electrical things did not work at Hogwarts, but I figured those poor kids could not live without music for 7 years, they must have charmed SOMETHING to play music. I mean, they had all heard of the Weird Sisters in book 4. What was the name of that thing? The Wizarding Wireless Network? Maybe what you listen to that on can also double as a player. I know, I know, I’m reaching.

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It’s ok, you can come near me, I’m not quite as melodramatic this morning.

It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep (blessedly absent of lewd dreams about Hermione, for a change) can do for a guy.

And now I’m bouncing off the walls.

I’m gonna see her soon. And I’ve reached some decisions, well, maybe just one, and some smaller ones that stem from that.

I can’t NOT go for this.

Ron be damned. If he’s going to delude himself into moving on, at least it’s better than him not moving on at all.

He’s actually first on my agenda for the day.

Probably not the best move on my part, seeing as I could arrive to Hermione beaten and bruised, but I just feel I owe it to him to let him know that I’m planning to pledge undying love to his ex-girlfriend in t-minus one hour and counting.

He’s on his way back from brushing his teeth right now.

“Ron…?”

“WHAT?”

Shit. I completely forgot about Ron’s lack of social skills in the morning. I act generally the same all day, I’m not a grumpy morning person, nor am I a ‘night-owl.’ All the same Harry, all the time. Sure, I’m a little more muddled and foggy in the morning, but I’d have to count myself as relatively pleasant.

Ron is the exact opposite.

There’ve been mornings when Hermione and I have had to eat alone because Ron’s in such a mood that he can’t stand to be around other people. Christmas morning may be the only time I’ve seen him happy in the early hours of the day.

And today is most certainly not Christmas.

“Harry…? You were saying?”

Fantastic. Now he’s getting impatient.

“Well, Ron, listen I need to talk to you abo-.”

He interrupted me, “So, talk.”

Do not yell at Ron. Do not yell at Ron. Do not yell at Ron.

“Right, ok, then, remember what we were talking about yesterday?”

“How Winky’s hot cocoa is much better than Dobby’s?”

“No, how yo-”

“How to curse Snape and make it so he actually does have a stick up his arse?”

Ah, that was a good time. Must get back on track though.

“No, Ron, about the Ravenclaw transfer and Hermione?”

“You haven’t got it for the Ravenclaw, have you?”

“No, Ron. Incidentally, I, uhh. . . (guess I’ll use his phrasing) . . .ihaveitforhermione.”

“What was that, Harry? You have a what in your knee? I really haven’t got time for this, mate.”

“Ron, this is important. (breathe, Harry, breathe)….I, uh, erm. . . that is. . .”

“Out with it, mate.”

Well, here goes nothing. “I love Hermione.”

“Of course you do, she’s your best friend, it’s perf-. . .”

“You’re not listening, Ron. I love Hermione. I’m IN love with Hermione.”

I once read somewhere that people can choose not to hear things that they don’t want to acknowledge. It’s a defense mechanism against emotional pain. I think I’m witnessing it first-hand.

“You’re, you’re. . .what? When? Why?”

“In love. With Hermione. For a long time. And because, well, because she’s Hermione.”

He’s twitching. His hand is actually shaking. I sure as hell hope it’s not with the effort of trying to keep from punching me.

“Is this because of what I said yesterday? About taking Hermione out? Because I was just messing around, covering up, I didn’t mean for you to go and fall in love with the girl. Christ, Harry.”

“No, it’s not to do with yesterday. Though I had hoped, following that conversation, that you’d be ok, well, not quite ok, but accepting of this whole thing.”

“And Hermione? How does she feel about all this?”

He’s handling himself remarkably well. I beginning to think I gave him too little credit.

“She, uh, well, she feels the same. I don’t know if it’s love yet for her, but she wants to give it a go.”

“Well, you’ve just got this all worked out then, haven’t you?”

“No, Ron, we haven’t. You’re important to both of us and we couldn’t do it if we knew it’d cost us you and your friendship.”

When did I start speaking on behalf of both of us?

“Seriously? You wouldn’t do this without being in my good graces becau-. . .”

I do NOT like where this is going. Better cut him off.

“Ron. This. Is. Important. I love her. Very much. Please don’t do something rash. You and her are just about all I’ve got.”

“Not true, you have Sirius and. . .”

He wants to quibble over semantics RIGHT NOW? Has he lost his bloody mind?

“Ron.”

“Fine, fine. Harry, you’re going to have to give me some time because, Merlin knows, I’m not used to being the bigger person, but I’ll get there. You should see the way your eyes shine when you talk about her. You’re over the moon for her, man. And she’s for you too. It’s so obvious. I think that’s why I clung so fiercely to her, because I knew there was something better for her out there and I didn’t want to be left with nothing. You deserve this, Harry. You really do. And so does she.”

I’m stunned.

Absolutely, positively, stunned.

That did NOT just happen.

It couldn’t have.

He didn’t hit me.

He didn’t yell. (and I didn’t stammer. . .much)

He just accepted it. Gracefully.

And to think I’d been doubting him all this time. I knew there was a reason I was friends with him. He’s an absolutely stand-up bloke.

“Phew! This doing the right thing sure takes a lot out of me. Breakfast?”

And yet he remains Ron.

“Sure, Ron, breakfast sounds great.”

“Yeah, make sure you eat a good meal, you’ve got some moves to make.”

And he smirked.

What a guy.

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I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t have Ron be a total jerk forever.

effectivelyabsent@yahoo.com

Yeah, yeah, I’m long-winded, I’m dealing with it. :o)

Anyway, here’s the seventh chapter, author’s notes at the end.

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Is it possible for your heart to beat right out of your chest?

No?

That’s never happened?

Well, then I may very well set some sort of record, because I think that’s what’s going to happen if Hermione doesn’t get here right quick.

After the not-all-together-unpleasant exchange with Ron this morning, I’d immediately dashed off after him to the dining hall whereupon I noticed Hermione was not among those eating (which is just further proof that there are cosmic forces constantly working against me and my happiness). Neville piped up and said she had practically inhaled some toast and took off, presumably, for the library.

Now rather than see this as a personal affront, I sat down and reasoned out that she was in the library due to the exam we had in Herbology (the one Ron and I hadn’t successfully managed to study for).

So I sought her out.

Sure enough, in the library, Hermione had sequestered herself in the corner of some stacks and was frantically shuffling papers.

I think if we barred Hermione from studying for the rest of the year and Ron and I studied every minute of every day, she would STILL get higher test scores than us. I have no idea where she keeps all the things she knows. Her head is much too little and cute to house the names of every notable wizard since the 14th century.

Maybe I’ll serve as a good distraction.

“Hermione?”

“Huh? Oh, hello Harry, ready for the exam?”

She sounded happy. I’m going to choose to believe it was because of my presence and not because of the test. I can be just as delusional as the next wizard.

“Sure, Ron and I studied for a whopping zero hours. We’re completely prepared.”

“Oh. . . yes. . . Ron. How is he?”

“He’s all right. He’s actually all right. Listen, Hermione, do you wa-”

“Oi there! You two need to be getting to class! Let’s go!”

Who the hell was that? Did a loudspeaker just yell at us? And address us personally? Why is there a LOUDspeaker in the library? This school will never cease to surprise me, even after seven years.

“Let’s go, Harry.”

“Wait, Hermione, can we, can we talk later?”

“I’d like that very much. I know you have quidditch practice tonight and I have a prefects’ meeting, say 10:30 in the common room? If it’s too crowded we can always go somewhere else.”

I agreed, and that was that.

And now it’s 10:27.

The common room is so full that I don’t even have a chair to sit in. Not that I would sit, this pacing is working quite well, thank you.

I’ve never felt this anxious before. This is like my first quidditch match, the arrival at Hogwarts, The Tri-Wizard tournament tasks, everything, all rolled into one.

It’s hard to convey. It’s like a hive of bees has taken up residence in my body and they’re racing through my blood and there’s a set bouncing around as one in my stomach and they’re knocking around in my skull and I just can’t. calm. down.

I don’t even remember if I caught the snitch at practice today, I was way more concerned with what was happening after. I sped through my shower (but not so quickly as to still smell) and threw clothes on. I attempted to fix my hair, but really, who am I kidding there? It’s still sticking up every which way. Mr. Weasley gave me a bottle of aftershave after witnessing post-shave Harry one morning, so I used that (after shaving obviously, never know if Hermione’s going to have cause to touch my face).

All that took about 23 minutes.

And I’ve been here ever since.

I don’t even know what I’m going to say. It’ll be a surprise to even me. Screw these ‘plans,’ that’s not who I am. I fly by the seat of my pants (quite literally).

Oh, thank god, she’s here. Right on time too, 10:30 on the dot. Not that I would’ve expected anything less.

Wow.

This is it.

She looks great too. Still in her school uniform, but having shed her robes. It’s a shame I’m going to have to ask her to put them back on.

“Hey Herm, I was thinking we could go to the passage to Hogsmeade to talk, there’ll definitely be no one in there and I’ve got my invisibility cloak so as not to get us in any trouble. It may be a bit chilly though.”

“Of course, let me just grab my robes.”

And we’re off. I say a silent thanks to my dad for the cloak again, I can’t count how many times I’ve got to huddle near Hermione underneath it, sneaking off somewhere. Never on the way to discuss our future though. Our future TOGETHER. Whoo boy.

This is the perfect time to hold her hand again. I slide my palm up the front of my trousers, surreptitiously wiping them off, as they’ve gotten rather clammy, and reach out to grab her hand.

And quite effectively grab her bum.

She yelps and I just outright start laughing. This, you see, is how things happen in my life. I’m used to it. I lift the lantern up to look at her face and she’s looking at me with thinly veiled amusement.

“Really, Harry! I thought we were going to “talk,” I’m not that kind of girl!”

And she promptly starts laughing.

I love this woman. I do.

“Let me try this again.” I reach out and take her hand.

“Smooth, Harry, very smooth. Nice that you didn’t need any ‘liquid courage’ this time either.”

We arrive at the passage in short order and I hold the entrance open for her, stepping inside behind her.

“Well.”

“Well.”

Well, this is awkward. Maybe that plan would’ve come in handy right about now.

“Why don’t we sit down?”

Ah, Hermione, ever the brain.

She starts to sit on the ground when I have a flash of inspiration and lay my robe out for us to sit on.

“There. That should be a little better.”

We end up side by side, against the stone of the wall, sitting much like we used to in her hallway, that summer.

“What does this remind you of?”

Sometimes it’s spooky how well she can glean my thoughts.

I laugh softly and mumble a “Yeah. . .”

I bang the back of my head softly against the well. It makes a soft, muffled thud.

I’m a Gryffindor. I can do this. There’s no time like the present. Carpe diem. Maybe if I just bounce enough clichés around in my head, something worthwhile will come out. Start at the beginning, I guess.

“About that, Hermione, I don’t think I ever told you, but that. . .that summer was one of the best times of my life. It helped me realize just what you mean to me. It helped me to realize. . . Hermione, I love you.”

“Har-”

Oh, there’s no stopping me now, the ball’s already in motion.

“Just. . . just wait. I love you, Hermione. I love that your feet are too big for your body. I love that you take a huge swig of pumpkin juice and then puff your cheeks out with it. I love that you care about everyone, from the house elves to Ron and I. I love that no matter how terribly Neville botches an assignment, you’re always willing to help him right it. I love the way your face lights up when you find a book you haven’t read. I love that aren’t very many books you haven’t read. I love that you watch me play quidditch, even though I know it scares you. I love that there are days when I can’t stand to be around you and you can’t stand to be around me and I love that we can get through that. I love that I could continue this list forever and still not run out of things to love. I. Love. You.”

That went. . . well. In my opinion anyway. I think I’ve made my point. Tad bid out of breath though.

We sit in silence for a few moments, me recounting everything I’d said and determining it was exactly what I’d wanted to and her seemingly collecting her thoughts. I brace myself as she clears her throat and starts in with a response,

“Harry. I love that you have a list of reasons you love me, it shows that you really do have scholastic tendencies. I love that you can put your chin on the top of my head, it reminds me just how much you’ve grown. I love that you stutter and stammer, it shows you’re still humble. I love that you still wear your glasses, because they show just how wonderful your eyes are. I love the way you grin, that goofy, goofy grin of yours, it lets us all know you’re still doing ok. I love your strength, it reminds me everyday of all the times you’ve put yourself on the line for me. For everyone. But mostly, Harry, mostely, I just love YOU. And I hate that you haven’t heard that enough in your life, but I love that I can spend the rest of mine telling you.”

. . . there’s only one way to respond to that.

I’m gonna kiss her.

I move to lay my arm across her shoulders, and pull her toward me, my left hand coming to rest on her bicep. I tilt my head one way and she goes the other and we’re moving closer and closer and closer and CONTACT. I just see her eyes flutter shut as mine do the same and then it’s all lips and hands and slow, soft nudging. I can feel her breath puff at my lips and taste it on the tip of my tongue. She tastes like cinnamon. And we kiss and kiss and kiss and then I’m getting braver, and I slide my tongue out to touch the widening seam of her lips and she opens her mouth. SHE OPENS HER MOUTH. And her tongue slithers past mine and into my mouth and OH MY GOD thisisn’thappening and her hands are in my hair and then they’re running up and down my back and where are my hands? And then she moans and I start to slip down the wall and Hermione’s following me and now I’m on my back and she’s on top of me and it’s the best feeling ever and Hermione’s teeth are so smooth and wow the ground is hard and I move my hands down down down and they’re about to cup her bottom when I feel her smile against me.

And pull back.

“Harry, I told you, I’m not that kind of girl.” And she laughs. A joyous lilting full-fledged laugh.

“Oh no, Granger? Sure felt like you were a second ago.” My voice is husky with its minutes of disuse. And I’m for sure out of breath this time.

“Only for you, Harry, only for you,” she smiles at me.

I look down at my watch and realize just how long we’ve been at this and she grabs my wrist and looks too.

“I suppose we should be getting back now.”

“I suppose so.”

And we begin the trek back to the common room.

Together really, for the first time ever.

We’re over that line, everything’s in the open, and it’s the greatest place I’ve ever been.

I’ll send you a postcard.

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Well folks, that’s probably the end, I can’t believe you made it here, I really have to learn to be more succinct in my writing. YOU GUYS RULE!

Thanks again!

-- jamie

effectivelyabsent@yahoo.com