Author's note: I really am sorry it's taken me this long to write this next chapter, although, to be perfectly honest, I'm not at all sorry about the reason. The fact is, the problems I've been having with my personal life that have been fueling this story have more or less solved themselves, believe it or not. While this has resulted in extreme benefit for me, you all kind of got screwed, because it's much harder to write this story without the problems I've been having. Nevertheless, it will be finished, it just might take awhile, and I may put out a couple of stories (one-shots probably) in the meantime, just because I've really started writing again, and those are coming a lot easier than this one is right now. I hope there isn't a drop in quality for this story, I'll try my best.
Sure enough, Harry was not heard from for the rest of the day. He didn't come to lunch, and by the time dinner rolled around, he still showed no sign of coming out. Hermione was getting more worried by the minute. Ron had been aware of her tension all day, and had tried to ease it, to do something to calm her down, and she appreciated it, but for some reason, nothing he did seemed to help her. Finally, after dinner, sitting on the couch with Ron in the common room, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, something clicked in Hermione's mind.
No, she thought, unsure as to whether to believe herself or not. No, that can't be it. She looked up at Ron. There's only one way to be sure.
"Ron?"
"Hmm?" Ron picked his head up off the back of the couch.
"Kiss me?"
"Of course." He smiled, and leaned down to her, closing the already small gap between them, and pressing his lips to hers.
Nothing, she thought miserably as he pulled away again, his smile only having grown. He obviously felt something, but…
"Ron, I think we need to talk." She sat up, moving slightly away from Ron as she did so, sitting cross-legged on the sofa facing him.
"Okay," he said, warily, with the instinctual knowledge possessed by all males that those words rarely presaged anything good.
"I…I wish there was a good way to say this," she began, knowing full well that what she had just said was already equivalent to breaking up in any teenager's mind.
"You're breaking up with me, aren't you," he said, looking down.
"I'm sorry, Ron, I truly am, I wanted it to work between us, but I just…" Hermione cursed herself in her mind for not having thoroughly thought out what she was going to say. "I didn't feel anything," she whispered, looking down. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't feel anything?" Ron looked as if he had just been punched in the gut, and Hermione could feel the guilt rising in her stomach like a cement building being poured out bit by bit. "The whole time, you didn't feel anything?"
"No, I did, just…not in the end."
"When? When did you stop feeling anything?"
"I…I don't know," she whispered, the fresh concrete of the now-skyscraper of guilt threatening to spill out of her eyes. "I'm sorry, Ron, I really am." She knew she sounded like every horrible girl she had ever seen break up with a guy, exactly like the girls from whom she swore she'd be so different she'd belong to a different species. "I know you're probably furious with me, and I can't say I disagree with you. I want to still be your friend, and I hope one day you can forgive me." She looked up tentatively, tears sitting at the corners of her eyes like olympic swimmers poised at the edge of their diving platforms.
"I…I need to think," he said quietly, and stood up, walking up the stairs.
Left alone on the sofa, Hermione could not help but think about how much she had hurt her two best friends, her two only friends, the only two people who had ever cared about her outside her family. Making the emotional and seemingly-logical step to the conclusion that she was a horrible friend came with ease, and Hermione felt like the worst kind of scum. Hugging her knees to her chest, and feeling truly alone, Hermione allowed the tears through, and started to sob softly.
Author's note: Yes, yes, I know, it's short. And it's late (to put it mildly). But this was a very hard part to write. And this chapter was never going to be long. Chapters are as long as they need to be.