Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own anything 'Harry Potter,' nor any of the lyric bits I place here, this is all for fun, no money is exchanging hands.

A/N: I suspect I'm going to get a lot of reviews to this chapter. It took a relatively long time to write, and I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with it. Ron laments his relationship with his two best friends, and after hearing about the St. Mungo's attack, he makes a disturbing discovery about his sister's actions. Something 'breaks' in Harry's mind after finding himself in a very, shall we say 'stressful?' situation. Due to his 'broken' emotions and raging hormones, he blurts out something he regretted even before he said it. I'd appreciate it if you could let me know how I could have worked this better, like I said, I'm not sure I'm happy with it, but here it is. Enjoy and review!

Chapter 11: Vanilla Shampoo and Cinnamon Soap

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I'm the man in the box,
buried in my shit.
Won't you come and save me?

Excerpt from the song 'Man in the Box' by Alice in Chains.

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Ron was having another nearly sleepless night. As hard as he tried, he couldn't manage to shut his brain down. Thoughts of his two best friends kept rampaging through his mind.

First, there was Harry. He was rich, famous, charismatic, and relatively handsome. With that killer combination, he could have any girl he wanted. No, he could have every girl he wanted wrapped around his finger. He took Parvati Patil, the prettiest girl in Gryffindor, to the Yule Ball. He dated Cho Chang, the prettiest and most popular girl in the entire school. He even took Luna Lovegood to one of those 'Slug Club' parties, which still irked him that he was never invited, being friends with both 'The Chosen One' and 'The Brightest Witch of Her Age.' While it's true that Luna wasn't the most attractive girl in school, she was certainly no Eloise Midgin. With the vast number of choices available to him, whom did the 'Chosen One' choose? Ginny. His baby sister.

Harry knew that he was going spare trying to keep all the lecherous Hogwarts boys from taking advantage of her. He nearly fainted whenever he would catch her snogging some bloke in a broom closet, empty classroom or deserted hallway. Then he kissed her. He nearly had a stroke as he watched them kiss in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, in front of everyone. He remembered the initial shock of seeing his best friend mashing face with his little sister. The shock only lasted for a moment before anger reared its' ugly head, but that passed, too.

Ron knew that Harry was the type of bloke who would never make the first move. He remembered when Harry was forced to find a date for the Yule Ball. Even though he needed a date for the ball, being one of the Champions, and he knew whom he wanted to ask, it took him so long to work up the nerve to ask Cho that it was too late, she already had a date. Ron knew at the time it wasn't a rejection on her part, but Harry saw it as such. Knowing Harry's personality, and knowing that he would never want to risk their friendship, Harry never would have kissed his best mate's sister if she wasn't the one that ran up to him first and practically assaulted his face.

Okay, the thought of one of England's wealthiest wizards becoming part of the Weasley family was enough to keep him from hexing Harry's naughty bits clean off. He admitted to himself that Ginny could do a hell of a lot worse than Harry, even though fate seemed to have handed him the crap end of the stick as far as the foreseeable future goes. Ron was jealous of a great many things about Harry, but being the 'Chosen One' of the Prophesy was not one of them.

So, he finally comes to grips with the idea of Harry being 'with' Ginny. Then what does Harry do? He 'publicly' breaks up with her at Hogwarts. He initially understood the reasoning behind it, it was to keep Ginny safe. As long as everyone at school knows they aren't together, there would be no reason to harm her, or less of a reason to harm her, anyway. What he couldn't come to grips with is why, when around trusted friends and family, he treats her like a flobberworm?

Okay, so he really wants to protect her and to keep her safe by making sure everybody knows they aren't together. Yes, Harry loves Ginny so much that he calls out Hermione's name when he sleeps. Hmmph. He knew that Harry had deeper feelings about Hermione than he'd ever admit. He doubted if even Harry was aware of his own feelings, but to everyone around him it was painfully obvious and had been for years.

Yes, then there's Hermione. The other reason why sleep eludes him. He screwed up at his brother's wedding, he knew he screwed up. He was hoping to catch Hermione after the reception and get in a bit of quality snogging… Well, it was never really quality snogging, exactly, but any snog is a good snog. Unfortunately for him, it was a little more work getting Hermione in the mood since that 'one' time where he pressed his luck a bit too far and tried to work his hand up the inside of her blouse. It took a month of apologies to get back to the point where he could even get a peck on the cheek from her.

Any hope of him ever kissing her again was binned when she caught him in a very compromising position with Gabrielle Delacour in the broom shed. Damn those twins… 'Sure, Ron, you're of age now! Here's another firewhiskey! Down the hatch! Have another!' It wasn't that Ron was pissed that night, he didn't even have a hangover the next morning, but he had just enough alcohol in him to effectively skew his judgment, and add that to the stupid 'veela blast' thing they do… he never really stood a chance.

Gabrielle sat through most of the wedding and reception alone, disconsolate over the disappearance of Harry. She had barely spoken to anyone, but then again, barely anyone was speaking anyway. He was just passing by her table, wobbling only slightly from the firewhiskey, when he suddenly got a dose of those 'pheromones,' or whatever it is, from the miniature Fleur. Actually, he didn't think that Gabrielle could be described as 'miniature' anymore. At fourteen, she had a mature looking face and a relatively well-developed body for her age, a startling difference from when he last saw her during their fourth year.

He didn't remember how he got into the broom shed with her. He didn't even remember how long he was in the shed. However, he did remember being found by Charlie and Hermione. He recalled the briefest flash of hurt on Hermione's face before it was replaced by the look of stoic sadness that she had been wearing since the day they discovered that Harry was missing.

'Stoic sadness.' Ron let out an ironic chuckle as he laid on his bed. She was going absolutely spare since his disappearance. Even before he disappeared she was acting oddly. He thought he knew the reasons why she was so irritable during the last year, especially towards Harry. First, there was the issue with their best friend and the Prophesy. He knew that was the big one. There was the fact that Harry was right all along about Malfoy and Snape, and he knew that she felt guilty for not even trying to believe Harry about them. It was as if she was intentionally pushing Harry away with her constant contradiction of everything he said.

There was also the Prince's book, which ticked the both him and Hermione off. It bothered Hermione for the obvious reason, he was showing her up in front of Slughorn. Harry was actually outperforming her, something she never would have expected in Potions class. He was annoyed because there always seemed to be an excuse that prevented Harry from sharing the wealth of knowledge that the book contained with him, which made Ron seem even more pathetic than usual compared to the Great Harry Potter. He had been so used to being 'partners in failure' with Harry that he felt betrayed, left in the dust, so to speak.

Ron knew that he was a mediocre wizard. He wasn't totally inept, but he certainly was no Merlin. Harry wasn't his first or only friend, but he certainly was his best friend. He knew what Harry had to do once the Prophesy was revealed to him, and he'd need powerful allies to finish the job. Sadly, Ron was painfully aware that he didn't fit that description.

There was one other thing that bothered Ron for the longest time. Just like everyone else, he thought for sure that Hermione was destined for Harry. Before their sixth year, all the signs pointed to it. He knew that she fancied Harry. What happened since the previous summer that changed her from daydreaming about him constantly to cursing him under her breath the minute he was out of earshot? And why does it seem that since Dumbledore's funeral she's been so focused on him to the point where she's neglecting herself? Everybody was worried about him, but she took worry to an entirely different level. It was as if she couldn't live without him being nearby, as if she needed him with her. What caused that sudden change in her?

He also knew that Harry needed Hermione. Not only was she 'the cleverest witch of her age,' but she was just as adept and nearly as powerful as Harry. Add to that her incredible power of deduction, her ability to 'think on her feet' and to adapt quickly to both advanced spellcasting and to whatever environment or situation she found herself in, and her fanatical passion for books and research, she was indispensable to Harry.

The words that Hermione spoke in the hospital tearoom kept coming back to him: 'He didn't need my friendship to make him happy. He didn't need me! I realized that the only reason I was his friend was that he relied on me so much in the previous years. I was always able to help him. I was always willing to help him, but not last year. I was so jealous of Ginny and that blasted book coming in between our friendship. I was so scared that he'd never need me again, that he'd never… That he wouldn't want… He was the first friend I ever had in my life. My very first and best friend. How could I treat him like that? What came over me?'

Ron never admitted to anyone that he felt the same way, but had been feeling that 'uselessness' a lot longer than Hermione had, since that stupid tournament in their fourth year where he felt like he was more of a hindrance than a help. Hermione really had no reason to think that way. Harry did need her more than either one of them knew.

Therein lies his problem. Harry couldn't live without Hermione. Harry, while needing him as a friend, didn't need him for the task at hand, and might even consider him a liability. His only way to stay close to Harry was to get into a relationship with Hermione, because, no matter what, Hermione would always be with Harry in one sense or another.

Ron sat on the side of his bed and sighed as he hung his head. He really screwed up badly. How long will it take Harry to push him aside as he did Ginny 'for his own protection?' How long will it take him to realize that his best friend isn't really that much of a help? Then how long would he be his 'best friend?'

When people look at him, all they see is 'Harry Potter's best mate." He really didn't much care for being known as 'The Boy Who Lived's' sidekick, but it was better than being unknown entirely, or worse yet, -insert better, older brother's name here-'s little brother, who everyone knows would never measure up. Everyone knew that now, Harry was an integral part of the Weasley family, which put most members of his family at equal risk. How long would that last? What could possibly convince Harry now that he was needed on this quest?

Ron looked out of the window from his bedroom and saw that the sky was already lit by the early morning sun. He could smell the aroma of breakfast wafting up from the stairway into his room. His mother's voice carried up the stairs, she was rousing Ginny for breakfast before yelling up the stairs for him to come down. He dressed himself and made his way to the kitchen where his mother was busy at the cooker, filling a platter with the freshly prepared eggs and sending it to the table with a lazy flick of her wand.

He sat heavily in a chair, filled his plate and started hastily shoveling his breakfast into his mouth. He was just filling his plate for a second helping when green flames burst to life in the fireplace and the head of Kingsley Shaklebolt appeared in the fire.

"Molly!" he called out loudly.

Mrs. Weasley quickly removed the heat from the cooker and rushed to the fireplace. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Thank Merlin you haven't left yet!" said Shaklebolt, "A few hours ago, there was a Death Eater attack at St. Mungos'. Our entire department was called in, along with all available Obliviators and those Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries, which should give you an idea of how large the attack was."

"Is Harry all right?" asked Molly shakily.

"We don't know. When we got there, the attack was over. Harry wasn't in his room, and it looked as if a tornado had hit it."

Molly wavered on her feet slightly upon hearing the news. Ron rose from the table and placed a steadying hand on his mother's shoulder. Ron looked at the stairway and saw Ginny standing at the bottom landing.

He heard Ginny ask, "Mum? What's going on?"

"Death Eaters attacked St. Mungo's. They don't know much at this point, but Harry is… Harry… he's missing… Nobody knows where he…"

She couldn't finish the sentence as she broke down in tears. Ron watched all the color drain from Ginny's face, then saw her crumple to the floor.

Upon seeing her youngest child collapse, Molly immediately composed herself and rushed over to scoop Ginny into her arms and carry her into the living room.

"Ron," ordered his mother while placing Ginny on the sofa, "hurry and go up and get your potions kit, I need to make up a calming draught for her," then added under her breath, "and one for myself, too."

Ron raced up the stairs to his bedroom, opened his trunk and pulled out his potions kit. When he looked inside, he noticed that he was nearly out of most things, and completely out of the rest. He went back down the stairs and into Ginny's room to get her kit. He opened her door and started gagging as he was hit with the strong scent of gardenias and roses from her perfume.

As he crossed the room to get to her trunk, he noticed an open panel on the front of her desk that obviously shouldn't have been there. He stopped and looked inside of it, but it was empty. He then saw the empty glass vial sitting on top of a page that appeared to have been torn from some Potions textbook. He blanched as he scanned the page and read the name of the potion, 'Elixir of Love's Distraction.'

His eyes narrowed as he read the intended effects. He began to understand why Harry and Hermione had been so short with each other all last year and why Harry suddenly became infatuated with his baby sister. He knew that Ginny had a crush on Harry since she first heard about 'The Boy Who Lived,' but he never would have dreamed that she would go so far as to use some kind of potion to get close to him.

Then a thought came unbidden into his mind, 'Is that much different than trying to date someone you don't even like very much to stay close to him?'

Ron sighed deeply, fighting with himself about what to do… 'The right thing or the easy thing?' The 'right' thing would be to warn Harry and Hermione about what he discovered. The 'easy' thing would be to ignore it, but what if this elixir has something to do with Harry's illness?

"Bloody Hell…" he mumbled to himself. He couldn't just ignore it, but he wasn't sure if this was actually causing all the problems. If it wasn't causing all of the recent problems, then how could he fault his sister from trying to keep Harry? Again, the thought of one of the richest wizards in England being joined with the Weasley family was something he wouldn't want to willfully sabotage. If he didn't know what the real effects of this elixir was, he was sure as hell going to find out before he ratted his own sister out, and he knew just the Ravenclaw to ask.

He quickly grabbed a spare bit of parchment and a quill and quickly copied the Arithmantic formula from the page. He grabbed another blank sheet and cast a duplication charm on the page, copying what was written onto the parchment, and stuffed both papers into his pocket. He was careful to leave her desk just the way he found it before retrieving the potions kit from her school trunk and left the room to bring it to his mother.

As he handed both kits to his mother, he said, "I'm going out for a while, I'll be back in a bit."

Molly just waved an agitated hand while she was hastily adding bits of this and that to a cauldron. Ron stepped out of the front door of the Burrow, walked past the broom shed beyond the wards and disapparated with a loud crack, finding himself a moment later in front of a large, but cozy cottage on the far side of Ottery St. Catchpole, the quaint residence of the Lovegoods.

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Harry awoke to near total darkness. His back and joints complained angrily from sleeping in such a cramped and uncomfortable position. He tried to stretch himself out, only to have his toes stubbed on some rough, unfinished wood. It took him a few moments to clear the disorientation from his mind, trying to remember where he was when he fell asleep.

'Oh, yeah… that's right… 'The cupboard under the stairs.''

He could recall why he ended up at Privet Drive, to see what condition it was in and prepare it for sale. He didn't recall why he chose to sleep in his old 'bedroom.' Maybe he thought it would give him some sick sense of security. As he thought about it, despite the physical discomfort, he felt that he had gotten the best sleep he ever had in his life. His mind felt clear and relaxed. He actually felt rested for the first time he could ever remember. He could barely recall a pleasant dream he woke from, a dream about being snuggled up with a soft, brown teddy bear, which he thought was unusual because he had never owned a stuffed animal as a child.

He cracked the cupboard door open to allow in enough light to check the time. As the door opened, he saw that the time was around seven in the evening. He suddenly heard a distant sound of running water. He didn't remember trying any of the taps in the house when he got there, but maybe he did while half-asleep sometime during the day, or maybe there was a broken pipe or something that he didn't notice when he first arrived. He quietly left the cupboard and could tell the sound was coming from the upper floor. He cautiously made his way up the stairs and could see light coming from the bathroom through the door that was left ajar. Apparently, the Dursleys never bothered to shut the utilities down, seeing how they weren't paying those bills anyway. Silently, he crept to the door, listening to the rush of water coming from the bathroom as he inched closer. He caught a whiff of something… vanilla and cinnamon? With his wand in hand, he slowly peeked in through the partially open door.

Harry froze. He felt his mouth instantly go dry. After a few heartbeats, he blinked, not believing what he was seeing.

Inside the bathroom was his best friend, Hermione. Obviously, when the Dursleys packed up and left, they took everything, including the shower curtain, with them. She was standing in the bathtub, with her body facing the door, but had her eyes closed and her shampoo-covered hair thrown back behind her in the stream of the shower. Her soapy arms arced upwards and her back was arched as her hands guided her hair through the spray of water. She appeared very thin, but not frighteningly so. His eyes followed a trail of lather that streamed down from her shoulders and between her breasts, splitting into two trails along the line of her ribcage, down around her nearly flat, stretched belly ending up in a neatly trimmed triangle of curly hair.

He wanted to touch her. He needed to know if that creamy skin was as smooth and silky as it looked. His minds eye took her soap from the dish, lathered up his hands and ran them over the satiny mounds…

"Sweet Merlin's Quaffles!" exclaimed Harry as he fell backwards away from the door. He landed noisily against the hallway wall and slid down to the floor. A sharp, blinding pain tore through Harry's head. It wasn't centered on his scar, but seemed to explode out from the center of his brain. Suddenly, he felt what he could only describe as a thick fog in his mind clear away. How could he not have noticed how much she's grown, it seemed like the image of her at fourteen was somehow blanketing his perception of her until that moment where he saw her standing in the shower.

His eyes became as large as dinner plates, and his breathing was coming in short, ragged pants. The image was seared into his consciousness… Hermione… Hermione naked… Hermione naked, wet… Hermione naked, wet, soapy… His hands caressing… His body pressed against…

"Blood- dee- Hell!"

A few moments later, the bathroom door burst open and a still soapy and dripping Hermione appeared in the hall, wrapped in a loose-fitting towel and brandishing her wand. He saw the concern in her eyes as she looked down at him sprawled against the wall. She made a quick scan around the hallway, checking for any sign of intruders before returning her gaze to him.

Harry was staring deep into Hermione's eyes. He read the concern, the caring that shone through her eyes as they met his. For only a fleeting instant, he could have sworn he saw what could only be described as… love? An instant later, a look of distress shadowed her face.

"Harry! What happened? Are you all right?" she asked as she bent down in front of him, looking him over and trying to determine if he was hurt in any way. As she did, the towel loosened slightly around her chest and opened at her side, revealing half of her naked form from her waist, past her hip and uncovering her entire right leg. Hermione had a horrified look on her face. She was afraid Harry was having another of his 'fits.' She reached out her hand to touch his forehead, which caused him to scramble away from her in panic.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione! You're starkers!"

He saw comprehension dawn on her and she visibly reddened. She stood up quickly and smoothed the towel back around her.

"Oh… Ummm, well… I'll just go finish up, shall I?" With a shy, nervous smile, she quickly disappeared back into the bathroom, this time firmly closing the door.

It took Harry a few minutes to get his breathing, and his hormones, back under control. The image of Hermione that kept flashing in his mind made that task quite difficult. When had she grown those? When had she begun looking like that? He had seen her numerous times in muggle clothes, but they were always so layered and loose fitting that he never realized just what she was hiding beneath them. They seemed so… so big, but he really had nothing to judge them against. To anyone else, they might have been considered quite small. He had no idea because he had never seen a naked woman before in his life. He'd never anyone starkers before.

Harry got to his feet, still leaning against the wall as he lifted his shaking hand and ran it nervously through his hair. 'The length of those legs… the curve of those hips…all of that milky skin… the shape of those big, soapy…'

He painfully pulled a fistful of his hair, 'Stop it, Potter! That's Hermione you're leering over!'

"But all that soap…those suds running down those two creases on each side of that belly… the lather running into…"

"Get a grip on yourself!" he angrily commanded under his breath, which caused his mind to snarkily reply, 'You'd like to get a grip on yourself right now, wouldn't you?'

He growled angrily at himself as he made his way to the staircase and sat on the top step. He miserably placed is sweaty face in his hands. He took a deep, calming breath and again muttered, "Bloody Hell!"

What happened to that short, skinny girl who was cowering on the dirty floor of a loo? When did that pushy, bossy bookworm that was endlessly drilling him on the Summoning Charm become a woman? Was he paying so little attention? He knew that Hermione wasn't a raving beauty that had every male within viewing distance drooling on her like Fleur so mindlessly does. Most people look at her as being quite plain, but in order to see past the physical, in order to see her true beauty, you had to know Hermione, and if he wasn't sure of anything else in his life, he was sure that he knew her… or at least he did know her at one time… What happened to change that?

A soft voice wafted from behind him, "Harry?"

He stiffened as he heard the patting of Hermione's bare feet on the hardwood floor behind him. He made a point of not turning around, being afraid of what he might see, and even more afraid of what he knew he would feel if he did get a good look.

"Harry?" she asked again while putting a hand on his shoulder. He shot to his feet at her touch and descended a step, desperately trying to conceal the obvious effect the situation was having on him, causing Hermione to squeak and step back in surprise. "What's the matter?"

Harry turned his head slightly and tentatively peeked at her from the corner of his eye. Seeing that she was fully clothed, he relaxed somewhat, but still wouldn't turn to meet her eye.

"I'm sorry." He almost whispered.

Hermione wore a confused look, "What?"

He hung his head and continued, "I saw you… in the bathroom. I didn't know who was here or what was happening. I heard the water and the door was open and I looked and I saw you, and… and the door was… there was no curtain, and… Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry…" At this point, Harry was so red that he could match his uncle Vernon's complexion during one of his worst tantrums.

"Oh… you saw…? Oh! Oh, my!" was all Hermione could say. She continued after a pregnant pause, "I'm sorry, it was my fault. I was going to wake you, but you looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart, and I'd thought you'd sleep through..." she added with a very nervous laugh, "I hope it wasn't too dreadful for you."

'Dreadful? Hardly!' he thought. Harry was finding it difficult to stammer out a complete and coherent sentence, "Yes, well, no, of course not… I… I… I've never seen anyone… you know, like that… I'm nearly seventeen, but I never… well… and you're just so…" Harry abruptly stopped, realizing that he was beginning to babble.

Hermione stood frozen. Yes, she was horribly embarrassed, but also very afraid of what his words would be to complete that last sentence. 'ugly?' 'scrawny?' 'plain?' 'scary?' 'boring?' 'nightmarish?' It certainly wouldn't be 'pretty' or 'beautiful.' He probably wouldn't even consider her 'cute.' How could he?

Nevertheless, she just had to know. She closed her eyes and, against her better judgment, prompted, "I'm just so…?"

Harry paused a moment, then started walking briskly up the stairs saying, "I think I'll take a shower too, can I borrow your soap?"

As he passed by her, she grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her, "I'm so what? What am I? Ugly?"

Harry let out a small laugh, which immediately caused a dull ache to appear in Hermione's chest. He still didn't meet her eye when he said, "I've told you before, and I meant it, I surely don't think you're ugly, but I don't think you want to hear what I was thinking."

She felt the wetness build under her eyelids, but she managed to keep her voice even when she said in her bossy tone, "I do want to hear it. I'm just so what?"

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor and mumbled something that sounded to her like 'erffet.'

'Did he just say 'effete?' He thinks I'm 'worn out?!'' Her eyes narrowed, "Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that."

Harry let out a loud sigh. "Perfect, alright?" he said in a near yell, "I think you look perfect! Are you happy now? I can't imagine how you can think that anyone could look at you and say that you're ugly. Now, please, just wait until I'm in the bathroom before you start laughing at me." Harry sullenly wrenched his arm out of her grasp, walked quickly down the hall and into the bathroom, leaving a speechless Hermione standing near the top of the stairs.

Harry closed and locked the door, then noisily expelled a long breath as he leaned his back against it and slid to the floor.

'Smooth move, Potter, you've really borked things up nicely now,' said the annoying little voice in his head that sounded strangely like Hermione. Harry undressed and stepped into the tub, intending to take a very quick, very cold shower. When he turned on the tap, the spray that hit him was already icy-cold, telling him that the last person in there, namely Hermione, had also taken a very cold shower. That caused him to ask himself, 'Why was she taking a cold shower?'

The icy water only marginally worked to quell his 'problem.' When he stepped out of the tub, he found that he had to use the same towel that Hermione used, and realizing that the fluffy, still-damp cloth had been wrapped around her naked body just minutes before sent a jumble of improper thoughts through his almost-seventeen-year-old brain.

After drying himself the best he could, Harry thought briefly about casting a cleaning charm on his clothes, since they're the only clothes he had with him, and a drying spell on the floor, which by that time had a large puddle around the tub. He decided to have Hermione do it, if she was still in the house, he didn't need any 'Ministry Nasty-Grams' for using underage magic so close to his birthday. The thought had occurred to him that he just might have chased her away. Did Hermione really flee at what he said?

He hastily dressed himself and packed away all of Hermione's toiletries into her bag. He picked up the bag, tucked his wand in the waistband of his pants and draped the damp towel over his arm. Harry's gaze dropped to the floor as he pulled open the bathroom door, realizing that he was either going to meet a very angry Hermione waiting for him on the other side, or a once again lonely, empty house.

He silently prayed that he wouldn't find the latter.