It had been one week since they had been to Hagrid's hut. They had rushed back as quickly as possible and up to the
common room an hour before dinner. Hermione had burst out crying, and Ron had gathered her to him and kissed her
forehead repeatedly, comforting her. It hurt Harry to see this, so he had excused himself and ran up to his dorm
room.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore invited Harry into his office. Harry entered, remembering the other times he had been in here. He saw the Sorting Hat, perched up high on a shelf. He saw the other headmasters of Hogwarts napping peacefully in their paintings. He saw Fawkes, Dumbledore's faithful Phoenix who saved his life in his second year. Dumbledore motioned for him to sit, so he did.
"I know why you're here, Harry," Dumbledore said even before Harry could open his mouth. He had an uncanny ability of doing that.
"How?" he asked, puzzled.
"Our beloved caretaker is sharper than you think. And you can hear Fang barking happily a mile away," he answered, smiling, his blue eyes twinkling. Harry smiled back.
"What happened in there, Harry?" Dumbledore asked more quietly now. Harry knew this was coming. He took a deep breath and explained everything he had seen. When he was done, Dumbledore had a quizzical expression on his face.
"I know Hagrid is not dead. In fact, he is quite safe at the moment."
"So Hagrid's all right, then?" Harry asked excitedly. Dumbledore nodded, smiling.
"He's fine, my boy. Now the question is, WHO died down there? And who killed them?" he mused. Harry had thought the headmaster would know the answer to this too.
"Well, Harry. That worry's for another time. How are your friends?" Dumbledore asked, his cheerful expression back on again. Harry wondered what to say. I saw them a couple of nights ago, snogging in the common room, Professor. That's perfect…Harry remained silent.
"No problems, I trust?" he inquired. Harry shook his head.
"We're fine. It's just stress. You know," he shrugged it off. Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, then got up.
"Then you may go, Harry. If there isn't anything else," he added.
"No, sir" was Harry's reply as he exited.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Why can't I sleep?" Hermione muttered to herself as she turned onto her left side for the 14th time in 16 minutes (she had been counting). Every time she closed her eyes, that night in the common room with Ron popped into her head. The way he held her, the way he made that other guy fly right out of her head as soon as she looked into his eyes, or when he touched his soft lips to hers...
She decided she had to talk to him about it, or she'd never get any sleep, or worse, pass any of her classes. She quietly got up, threw her nightgown over her pajamas, and tiptoed out of the dorm and down the stairs. Ron and Dean came into view as she descended, Ron's hair glowing orange in the roaring fire's reflection, his brow furrowed as if he was thinking hard. He had his robes off, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His tie was a little loose at the neck. Hermione thought he looked adorable. Wait. WHAT? She asked herself, surprised. You know you like him, Hermione, her mind retaliated. No, I don't! Ron Weasley is my friend, she said stubbornly. Then why did you cry yourself to sleep the night before and after the Yule Ball? Because you were sad he didn't ask you! Her brain responded. Hermione was about to protest, but she realized that it was correct. After a couple of seconds of deep thought, she came to the conclusion with a small smile on her lips: I like him. More than as a friend. She took a deep breath and went all the way down to where the other two were sitting.
"Dean, can I speak to Ron for a moment alone, please?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. Both boys looked up from the chess game, and the pieces also looked up at her, but with anger. After a minute, Dean nodded stood up, stretching. He eyed Ron before climbing up to the dorms. Ron also stood up after quickly packing the chess set away.
"Yes, Hermione?" he asked curiously.
"Um," she cleared her throat, "about the other night..." she trailed off. At the mention of this, Ron turned a light shade of pink.
"Yeah?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet. Should I just tell her I like her? He asked himself.
"It was..." 'amazing' came to her mind at once, but "unexpected" was what she found herself saying. Ron only nodded.
"It was only...one friend, comforting another, right?" Ron asked uncertainly. Hermione's breath hitched. He doesn't. Her heart sank lower and lower until it dropped out completely. She was shocked that this was happening to her, and THIS was unexpected as well. She hadn't thought she would take it so hard.
"Oh. Um, um, yeah," she stuttered. "Definitely." Now it was Ron's turn to be surprised as his heart shattered. She doesn't. He realized he had waited too long. She had probably moved on to better people than him. He should've known.
"All right, then. I'm...I'm going to bed now," he replied, biting his tongue as the urge to kiss her washed over him. She nodded and whispered, "G'night, Ron." He stood there for a minute, then realized he was supposed to move. He picked up his chess set and slowly walked to and up the stairs, more and more against his will.
Hermione wanted to scream for him to come back, wanted to hold him again, kiss him again as she had the other night. She bit her lip hard, biting back the words she so desperately wanted to tell him. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she watched his retreating back. She quickly blinked them away and stood up straight. As Ron disappeared, however, she fell back on the couch and her composure melted away, tears rolling down her cheeks, revealing a girl who felt so stupid for not telling the guy she liked more than anything else the truth.