DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. does, and she has every right to do whatever she thinks is best for Harry Potter. I just love writing. So sue me. Wait, seriously… don't.
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As soon as Harry had left, Hermione had gotten up from the bed and, accompanied by Ron, went to Madame Pomfrey for consent in leaving the Hospital Wing.
At the first few minutes of their conversation, Madame Pomfrey's decision had been nothing but resilient; her explanation that Hermione couldn't leave just yet was told to them in a way that made them feel they were three-year-olds.
But after promising she would stay away from stressful activities for the rest of the day, Madame Pomfrey finally gave up, thinking that she wouldn't be able to make them stay put in the Hospital Wing anyway, and gave them permission to leave, but that was after she had checked on Hermione's state and found her in good condition
As they got out of Madame Pomfrey's office, they tried to hide their eagerness to leave, fearing that it might be mistaken as a stressful action and the nurse might take back what she had agreed on.
But the moment they were out of sight, they didn't waste time idling in one place and both of them went on their separate ways; Hermione, dashing to the Gryffindor Tower to get the ingredients they had collected and the tools they would be needing; and Ron, going to the Great Hall with the hopes of eating an early lunch before he meets Hermione on the second floor to get started in the potion.
But when he was standing in front of the Great Hall's closed doors, he couldn't afford to ignore the added noise inside the room. It seemed like it had been amplified ten times louder. It was only when the massive entrance had been opened by an exiting person whom he had never seen before in his life that Ron became aware of the reason why.
Today was the school's annual Stopover, a treat granted since his 5th year at every end of the yearly exams when family and friends of students are allowed to make a trip to Hogwarts and spend a day with them.
The event wasn't a bother to him, really; but he still had to duck out of sight when he had seen the people inside; he couldn't afford to be seen, that's what it was actually. Because if he was spotted by the eagle eyes of his mother, which what was sure to happen if he stayed in the same room even for just one more second, he and Hermione could just kiss their plans goodbye, since, knowing his own kin, Mrs. Weasley wouldn't let him out of her sight until the day ended.
So, ignoring his stomach's protests, Ron stalked the other way, briefly catching a glimpse of an announcement of a meeting in the Bulletin Board, and headed for the stairs up the Gryffindor Tower hoping to lend a hand to Hermione with the stuffs she was to carry.
Ron had just entered the Gryffindor Common Room when she appeared from the stairs, carrying cauldrons, ladles, and a bunch of other humongous-looking tools he didn't have the foggiest idea how they could need it.
Coming up to her, he took the bigger ones that looked too heavy for Hermione's own good, leaving her with the lighter and smaller materials. After which both of them silently went down from the empty tower.
It took only a few minutes to reach the Girls' Bathroom on the second floor. If truth were told, it wasn't a surprise when not once had they encountered anyone who was passing by the same level they were in; Stopovers really kept the students busy.
And now, as Hermione brewed the potion in a stall in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom, she found herself remembering and ending up yet again in recalling the way it felt to be in Harry's arms, the wonder of how it gave her comfort and the sensation that Harry's kiss, no matter how innocent it might have been, caused her to feel.
But just like before, she forced herself to withdrew from her daydreams, hating the mere thought of letting the memories play in her mind like a broken record, allowing it to interfere on her recovery over the situation.
Her daydreams happened frequently that when she was finished with this one, Ron, who had also noticed her repeated trance, couldn't keep his charade intact anymore.
"You know, if you don't stop doing that, you and I might throw up from all the sappiness you keep on imagining." He said as he sat across her, his hands splayed on his bent knees
"Shut it, Ron." Hermione said, not bothering to ask how or if he knew what sentimentality she was reminiscing on.
Knowing him, he wouldn't believe any word she would say even if she were to tell him every detail of what happened. Besides, she couldn't bring herself up to do it, anyway. How could she when she, herself, doesn't believe it.
Even though she had replayed every scene of that moment for so many times in her mind, she still couldn't afford to consider it was Harry who saved her; the same Harry who thought she was a flirt, a liar, a player and a disloyal friend. And even knowing that it was he whom had rescued her, she didn't want to let go of her pride and thank him face to face.
No matter how much she wanted to thank him personally, Hermione still had some self-esteem to keep intact. She had avoided him for nearly two days now, the longest she has ever had in 3 years, and she wasn't about to stop just because he saved her.
And now that she has come to think of it, for the last 7 years, she had been the one helping Harry in a way that only she could and by what her experiences and memories indicate, she didn't need him rescuing her. But even as she thought that, she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she was wrong.
She owed her life to Harry and there was nothing in her that disagreed with that thought. With a long and agonizing groan, she dropped the ladle she was holding and crossed her arms.
"This is unfair." She muttered.
"What's not?" Ron asked, acting innocently curious.
"Why am I feeling so vulnerable just because I didn't say thank you to him?" Hermione complained, facing him with a glower.
"It's called guilt, Hermione." Ron looked at her knowingly. "It's telling you that no matter how much you don't want to owe your life to him, you have no choice but to accept that you do and act like you care regardless of how much you don't want to." Ron said with a smile so sly she wanted to wipe it off his face with a smack.
"So admit it. You certainly haveto say thank you cause you should say thank you and besides…you definitely want to say thank you."
Hermione licked her lips and thought on it greatly. "No." She stated flatly after she looked at him with a steadfast gaze. "I'm not going to say thank you to him. I'm still angry by the way he had treated me and I want him to know how it feels to be neglected."
"Wait…you've lost me." Ron announced. "You said you're mad at him and you want to get even by making him feel ignored. But you're returning to the past to change it so that you could tell him your feelings. So what's the point of going back if that's the way you feel?" Ron asked.
"I don't know. Believe it or not, even I can't seem to find a reason why."
Ron remained silent.
'Maybe you should know that Harry knows. Maybe you'd not go if you knew.' He thought to himself.
'And what?' Argued another. 'Get her to be mad at you, too?'
'Well, it was just a thought.' Shrugged Ron.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.
Ron cleared his throat. "What am I doing?"
"You spaced out on me and then you shrugged your shoulders to an invisible companion as if you were fighting with yourself." Hermione said, frowning.
"I'm fine, I just can't see why you're going to do something you can just do in your own time."
"What if I tell Harry today?" She asked him with a tone that made him wish he didn't bring up the subject at all.
"He would freak out, get confused and worked up." Ron answered definitely, taking his answer from what he had seen from Harry the previous night.
"Exactly. He would find it hard thinking about his feelings for Cho and my feelings for him. I mean, I'm not saying that by telling Harry, he would reconsider dating her. There's nothing to compare, really. I know he loves me, but I also know that that love cannot amount to how much he loves Cho." She paused and took her time taking a deep breath; the pain in her eyes was unmistakable that for a moment, Ron wanted to end her misery and tell her that what she was avoiding was already happening, she just didn't know it.
"Go on." Ron urged with a mild tone that wasn't both too assertive and reluctant.
She sniffed, retrieving the ladle resting on the side of the cauldron and mixing the ingredients once more. "When he asked me if it was ok for him to go out with Cho, his relationship with her was still fresh. And if I go back at that moment, it wouldn't be so hard on the both of us if I tell him since he wouldn't be too attached to her that much yet."
After that, both of them remained silent. But Ron was regarding her with so much sympathy that when she couldn't bear it any longer, she pretended to be consumed with brewing the potion so that she wouldn't feel obliged to talk anymore. Hermione continued to work on the potion with a heavy heart, all the while humming to herself gingerly. But amidst her display of obvious shunning, she heard him mutter something under his breath as his gaze fell on her. "I understand you now, you know."
This made her appreciate him even more.
Harry spent his morning flying in the field and he didn't care if he had to do it for the rest of the day. He assumed that by doing this, he would be able to come up with a decision before the day ended.
He needed it before things get a bit much more complicated. He had spent some of his time asking himself questions and so far, there was this one thought he couldn't bring himself to answer if he didn't harbor feelings for his best friend, then why was making a decision to say no to her, even only to himself, that he didn't love her the way she loves him difficult?
Harry sighed.
The sun was up and it was really hot. He could feel it's fiery light creating warmth on his skin as he flew gradually in the air. Trickles of sweat slid from his forehead down to his cheeks, his neck, and his chest, wetting his Quidditch robes.
He flew to the left, hiding under a cloud, trying to keep himself as cool as possible, wishing he could hide away from his troubles just like the way he was running away from being scorched by the sun's rays. The vividness of the sunlight was ironic against the faintness of how he was going to be able to solve this misunderstanding.
He gripped the broom tighter with his hands, anger seeping through him for the first time since the moment he knew.
Maybe Hermione was just confused about this just as he was. Or she only loved him as a best friend and nothing more.
Of all the people to fall in love with why him? Although it was wrong for him to blame Hermione, he couldn't avoid doing so. Would it be fair if he blamed himself? No. It wouldn't. He didn't ask for her to see him as more than a friend! He didn't tell her to fall in love with him and ruin a friendship that he thought was so strong to be broken.
'But you were the first to break it, so it was also you're fault.'Said a thought in his desolated brain.
"But it was my responsibility to do it. Cho is my girlfriend. She deserves to be treated like one." Then, he realized what he was saying and cursed. It struck him as if it was his job, more than his privilege, to care for her.
But his half conscious begged to differ. 'Maybe because you know it is your duty, but you're just too appallingly proud to admit that you only stay with her because she agreed to become your girlfriend.'
"No, I don't." Harry muttered, "I love Cho. I really do."
'Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Then, maybe you'd be able to find a solution to your 'problem', which, by the way, you already know the answer to!'
For a moment, Harry couldn't react. He felt like he was actually talking to another person. It was so real that it was as if somebody was really having a conversation with him right there.
Harry's eyes flashed a sense of disappointment. There was nothing in this world he wouldn't give just to make his own thoughts a real live person. Because if he could, then he wouldn't have to think that all of it were true since it would have come from another instead of his own mind.
But no, it didn't come from someone else's; it came from him. And it only meant one thing. There was no way he could disregard everything he thought of…because all of them were real.
He flew down, deciding to call it over.
His thinking was done; he had no more intention to fly. All he needed to do now was find a way to get himself out of this trouble and then, perhaps, at the end of the day, all will be well. But no sooner than he had reached the ground with his feet when he saw a tall, raven-haired someone standing a few feet away from him.
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