Journey

Summary: Harry, Hermione, and Ron have returned to finish their seventh year at Hogwarts. This is Hermione's journey from being with Ron to loving Harry.

Author’s Note: I want to give everyone a proper warning about the ships in this story. This is written for my fellow H/Hr shippers despite the other ships it begins with. I want to warn H/Hr shippers about the Ron/Hermione in this fic so none of you are taken by surprise by it. The story starts off with Ron and Hermione as a couple and changes over to Harry and Hermione. The change won’t be as rapid as some H/Hr shippers will like, I expect, especially since I don’t write long chapters, but it is coming, I promise. There will be some unfaithfulness to Ron on both Harry and Hermione’s part because in this fic they’re not perfect people. I want to let you know that while Ron and Hermione will not have sex in this story. I hope that’s reassuring to those deciding to give this story a chance. Harry and Hermione will have sex, though, given time. This is a multi-chapter story. Please be patient with me and let me get to the Harry/Hermione as believably as I can. I want them to be human and flawed, and that takes time. I also don’t hate Ron, and I don’t write Hermione to dislike him as a person, so she may be positive towards him in ways you may disagree with. I’ll do my best to make it all worth the wait. Lastly, I don’t have a beta, so I’m sorry if there are errors. The version of the story posted here is altered from the version posted here.

***

Chapter 1 - Dream A Little Dream

I’ve been having dirty dreams about my best friend, Harry Potter, and I don’t understand where they’re coming from.

Life is really good right now, so I should be happy. We’re back at Hogwarts to complete school. We have to have our seventh year credits before we can advance, despite everything Harry, Ron and I have done over the past year to defeat the Darkest, most vile wizard to ever live.

Ron and Harry grumble about how we’re basically being held back a whole year and that we should be able to test out considering how well we’ve mastered magic in the field, but it doesn’t work that way on paper. I, for one, am thrilled. After what I went through last year in that tent, all that traveling, the hunger, cold, constant danger, torture, and losing dear friends that I really love, I’m glad to know my parents are at home safe and sound, their memories restored, and I can have one last year to be a teen.

Ginny’s thrilled. She and Harry are in the same year now, and they’re closer than ever to reconciling. She pointed out the other day that at least we won’t have to deal with the likes of Snape as a professor, and Draco has graduated so he’s not there either. Crabbe and Goyle are dead, and while we’re not happy that two human beings (even rotten humans like them) are dead, at least we won’t have to put up with their immature antics and taunting. In fact, most of the students who were staunchly against Harry are either dead, serving time in Azkaban for their misdeeds in the war, or they’ve graduated and moved on. School has never been more peaceful.

Of course the loss of so many good fellow students who died in the war and should have been completing their seventh year at Hogwarts is keenly felt. We move on, though. There’s no other choice for us but to live our lives and remember them all, good and evil alike.

As for Ron and me, well…I’m not sure what is really happening there. People think we’re shagging. In fact, everyone thinks we’ve been shagging for awhile, considering a lot of our experiences last year are common knowledge. Ron’s proud to let them think that. Me, not so much. I’m not a complete prude, it’s just that I don’t like people to have the wrong idea about the things I do.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what people think. What matters is what I know to be true.

Ron’s getting frustrated with our lack of ‘progress’ as he likes to call it. He’s always so keen to remind me that he got further with Lavender Brown in two weeks than he’s got with me all summer.

“Come on, Hermione, what are you afraid of?”

“Well, pregnancy for one, Ron,” I always snap back.

“There’re potions for that.”

“I don’t want to need them. I don’t want to ask Madame Pomfrey for them.”

“I hear they’re good for the skin,” Ron offers.

“What’s wrong with my skin?”

Ron’s ears go red as another row picks up. Harry listens from his place by the fire with Ginny, looking without really looking. She suggests a walk and they leave. It’s the Prefects lounge, and we have the place to ourselves.

Another evening that should have been relaxing comes to an end on a storm of angry words, hateful glares, and tense silence.

That’s when I had the first dream about Harry, after that very fight. It wasn’t pure filth. In fact, in the dream, I’m angry with myself for what I’m doing. It’s Harry, after all. He’s my friend. He’s the boy I can sit on a couch with and not have to fight his hands off my thighs and under my blouse because he's trying get under my bra to feel my tits. He offers so much of what I need: understanding and friendship. Harry and I shared things after Ron left on the journey to destroy the horcruxes that nobody else will ever understand.

I think that may be the problem. Things got so deep between Harry and I those few months we traveled alone that we formed a bond. We don’t talk about it, but we know its there. It always will be. What we shared is unspoken but profound, and it’s not something I can imagine ever sharing with Ron, or imagine Harry will ever share with Ginny.

That’s another thing. For some reason the idea of Harry ever forming a bond with Ginny, like he formed with me when we were on our own, scares me to death. If he finds that with her, or with anyone else, he won’t need me in his life. We’ll grow apart, and that makes me sick with worry. It starts to interfere with my sleep in strange ways. Some nights I’m unable to sleep at all, but other nights I have dreams in which I try to find Harry but no matter where I look I always stumble upon Ginny in his place.

I hear the light snores of the other girls, Ginny included, and I turn on my side to watch the half moon wink at me through the clouds that lazily pass by in the night sky. This time last year I couldn't have imagined being in this bed, in Hogwarts, studying and just being safe and having my friends alive and well. I'm so thankful for that now.

It’s still warm. I don’t need anything but a light blanket, but I can’t sleep because all I can think of is how I’m failing Ron. He’ll break up with me if I don’t give him what he wants from me. I liked it better before, when he and I danced around our attraction without actually doing anything about it. As soon as the snogging started that was it, really. It wasn’t enough for Ron after awhile. We're adults now, we're supposed to be ready for sex, and I’m just not delivering.

Then there’s this damned dream about Harry. I’m afraid I’ll have it again. I’m afraid I’ll close my eyes and find myself sitting in the Prefect Lounge with him, letting him put his hand under my bra to stroke one of my nipples while he kisses my neck and murmurs he needs me. I let Harry do some of the things I won’t let Ron do because he tells me it’s what he needs, and I have always wanted to give Harry what he needs. He’s been through so much in his life. He deserves to have his needs met, even if he shouldn’t have them met by me.

I fall asleep and go straight to the dream that I don’t want to have. Harry’s there, in the Prefect Lounge, hands outstretched and pleading with me to take his mind off the war. So I go to him, and I let him do whatever he needs—nothing too gritty—to distract himself. I bring him peace in the dream, and I wake up feeling dirty for dreaming it. I wake up feeling even dirtier for the wetness in my knickers.

***

Potions class is difficult, even for me. Harry, Ron, and Ginny are barely skating by, and it’s killing Harry. He wants to be an Auror. It’s his dream, and I intend to help him achieve that.

My motives aren’t completely innocent. Harry’s my excuse for not getting too intimate with Ron, but before our first revision on poisons Ron catches me and asks me for a walk around the lake.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ron said, as we settled under a tree. “I’ve been pushing you too hard.”

Sometimes Ron can say something that makes me absolutely love him. Like right now. I keep my mouth shut to avoid saying something that’ll ruin the moment and cause another row.

“What do you say we find an alternative to having sex?”

“What sort of alternative?”

“I was thinking I could…you know…and you could watch,” said Ron. His entire face was red, as bright as the red that tinged the sky above us.

This seems like a good compromise. Ron is a good-looking boy, and I do find him attractive. I want to make it work. I’m just not ready to shag yet, and I know that makes me come off as frigid.

Maybe I am frigid, I don’t know. I’m eighteen, and regardless of how clever I am, I haven’t figured everything about myself out yet. I nod in agreement. Maybe this will be fun. Maybe this will be like dipping my toe in the pool and easing in at my own pace.

“All right. Where?”

“How about the Prefects bath?”

“The mermaid will watch.”

“You’ve got a privacy spell up your sleeve, right?” Ron said, smiling his most charming smile.

It occurred to me at that moment that Harry wasn’t the only one who had things to forget. Ron had lost family to this war. He’d paid dearly to bring Voldemort down, and if he needed intimacy from me, his girlfriend, then I was going to give it to him.

“I have more than one,” I say, and we head up to the Prefects bath.

***

The dreams about Harry stop when Ron and I find new and exciting places to fool around. I’m glad. I’m relieved, but I also miss seeing Harry. He doesn’t say anything, but I think he misses me too. Over the past month nearly all my free time is spent with Ron, and I feel a rift forming between Harry and me. I hate that.

“I promise I’ll help you revise tomorrow night,” I tell Harry at the end of Potions. “I need the practice too.”

Harry nods and then walks off with Ginny. I wonder where they’re going, and what they’ll be doing when they get there. I wonder why that’s on my mind when it’s none of my business what they do.

The next day Ron doesn’t take my refusal for some time alone well, but he knows Harry really needs the help in potions.

“You’d do well to come with us,” I remind Ron. “You’re barely passing.”

“I’m heading to Hogsmeade with Ginny and Luna,” Ron says. “I promised them. I’ll catch you up later?”

He kisses me and then leaves.

Harry’s in the library alone when I get there, poring over his books, his glasses askew from rubbing at his eyes.

“Working hard, I see,” I say by way of greeting.

We set to work at once and the hours go by quickly. We alternate between talking about poisons and comfortable silence.

“Do you ever think of what it would be like if I’d lost?” Harry asks. We’re walking through the corridors back to Gryffindor tower.

“No. Do you?”

He nods. “So many people would be dead…”

“Don’t, Harry. Don’t do this to yourself.”

I hug him outside the portrait hole, trying to be a friend, trying to comfort him. That’s when my worst fear comes true—I like the feel of Harry’s arms hugging me tightly against him just a little too much. I like it in a way I shouldn’t. In the dreams I’d had of Harry I was repulsed at his touch but also excited by it. Now, in this hug, I don’t want to think how Harry isn’t too tall for me like Ron is. That Harry smells good, and his body feels good in my arms. Not too large, not to skinny, but strong and safe. He’s a perfect fit for every curve of my body.

The hug is going on too long and we both know it. Harry’s not crying on my shoulder or anything. He’s just holding me and rubbing my back with the tips of his fingers, and I’ve put my fingers a little too far into his unruly hair.

I quickly back away. I’m afraid Harry will feel my breath pick up. I’m afraid I’ll feel his breath quicken, too. We look into one another’s eyes for a second too long, and then I give the password and all but run through the portrait hole and straight to my dorm without a backward glance.

Harry and I are quite good at pretending things didn’t happen. We’re both quite good at ignoring the elephant in the room, so it was no surprise that when I showed up for breakfast the next morning Harry, Ron, Ginny and I all ate and talked as usual. In fact, everything was so normal I began to think I’d imagined that anything more than a hug had happened on Harry’s part and it was all on me. He was probably confused as to why I’d run away so quickly.

Actually I should say that Ron, Ginny and I talked. Harry has grown quite reticent since Voldemort’s demise, and I don’t know how to help him out of the shell he’s disappearing into. Ginny tells me they don’t do anything when they’re alone together. He won’t snog, he won’t shag, he won’t talk. She says he doesn’t feel ready to be with anyone right then.

“I spent years waiting for him once,” Ginny said. “He broke up with me and went off to fight Voldemort, and I waited again. He comes back and I think ‘Finally! We can be together.’ We’re not, though. He’s cold, Hermione. He won’t open up. If I don’t speak, we don’t talk.”

“Maybe he just needs to know you’re there for him. Instead of talking, just sit with him, hold his hand, be ready to listen,” I respond.

“I’ve tried that. He always gets up and leaves and goes walking somewhere alone. Do you think there’s someone else?” Ginny is so frustrated. I really feel for her.

“No,” I say sincerely. If Harry was seeing someone else, I’d know about it. Everyone would. He couldn’t sneeze without it making the Daily Prophet.

“I don’t want to sound selfish, Hermione, but Harry’s not the only one to go through hell in the war. He’s not the only one to lose family to Voldemort. He didn’t get to know his parents, but I got to know Fred quite well and I’m not closing myself off to those who love me.”

“People grieve in different ways, Ginny. This is Harry’s.”

Ginny’s eyes brim with unshed tears when she says “There was a time when I would have said I’d wait forever for him, and I would have meant it.”

“But not now?”

Ginny shook her head and left me standing at the bathroom sink with an open tube of lip gloss and my heart pounding in turmoil. I should have been alarmed at those words, but for some reason I felt profoundly relieved that Ginny would rather walk than wait for Harry to come around, but then I doubt she really means what she’s saying. She’s angry and confused, and I understand that.

Actually, it doesn’t take me long to feel ashamed for hoping they never work things out.

Our potions exams went well. Ron received an A, Harry and Ginny received E’s. I, of course, got an O but I felt no pride in it like usual. I was too tired from three straight nights of increasingly filthy dreams about Harry. I wake from them, panting and sweating, feeling less disgust and more frustration at having some physical and emotional need that wasn’t being met.

In last night’s dream, I could feel Harry pressing me against a wall. My legs were splayed around him, my weight was on the tips of my toes, and Harry’s hard cock was pressing against my clit. His tongue was in my mouth, his cock felt so hard and so real and so damned good. When I awoke Ginny was shaking me.

“Hermione, you sound like you’re getting shagged right good,” Ginny said with sleepy amusement. I knew she wouldn’t be amused at all if she knew it was Harry I dreamed of instead of Ron.

“Sorry,” I say breathlessly.

Ginny shrugs. “We all have dreams like that.”

October comes to an end with the usual Halloween feast. The trip to Hogsmeade is crowded with third years eager to see the town. The older the student, the less the enthusiasm. Harry walks ahead of us, his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, and Ginny beside him. She loops a hand through his arm. He makes no effort to hold it.

Ron, who feels at liberty with my body, squeezes my bum and makes the students behind us laugh. I push him off. It’s one thing for him to touch me in private, but not walking down the street. He looks put off but tries to stay good natured about it all, thank God. I really don’t want another row.

“I’ll meet you all at the Three Broomsticks in an hour. I have an appointment,” I announce.

“Where are you going?” Harry asks, opening his mouth for the first time that morning.

“Oh, he speaks!” Ginny says sarcastically, and stalks off into the village.

“Are you ignoring her again?” Ron asks Harry. “Look, mate, if you’re finished with Ginny, have the decency to tell her. Don’t string her along.”

“I’m not stringing her along. I told her I need some space. It’s not my fault if she won’t give it to me.”

“Boys, please,” I say, sensing a fight coming.

“Are you saying she’s clingy?” Ron demands.

Harry shakes his head. He’s having none of it, thankfully. “I’ll see you later for drinks.”

“You won’t see us. Hermione and I have plans. Go drink by yourself, Harry. It’s not like you plan to talk our ears off anyway.”

“Ron!” I say, when Harry’s out of earshot.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re going to stick up for him when he’s being a prat!”

“He’s going through a lot right now.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that since school started? At least twenty times. No exaggeration. I’m tired of hearing it. You need to worry less about Harry and more about us. We need some time alone.”

I know I shouldn’t, but I feel so angry with Ron for being so willing to walk away from Harry that I snap back with “Do you know how many times you’ve said that since school started? At least a thousand. No exaggeration. I’m tired of hearing it. We need some time apart.”

“You’re going to run after him, aren’t you?” Ron accuses me.

“One of us should.”

***

I get my hair cut as scheduled. Nothing too short, but something that makes good use of my naturally bushy hair. I know I’ll never have silky locks like Ginny. Well, not unless I use tons of hair potion every day, and I’m not about to do that. As I’ve grown older, though, I’ve really begun to take more of an interest in my hair, my clothes, and makeup. I’ve also started to work on staying current on the latest Magic and Muggle fashions, hairstyles, and trends in makeup. Right now the vamp look is in with witches, so I’m skipping that in favor of a natural look.

I leave the salon with my new haircut. My head feels twenty pounds lighter, and it’s no wonder. I have a fashionable cut that holds down the frizz with cute silver clips and beads. My hair still comes down past my ears, but it’ll be much easier to manage now. Nobody from school recognizes me at first glance, and I’m getting plenty of first glances. Especially from the boys.

Harry is in a booth in the Three Broomsticks alone. Ginny’s at the bar, and I hope she’s getting drinks for her and Harry but she’s not. She’s sitting with a few girls from Hufflepuff and studiously ignoring Harry. She walks right past me without realizing who I am.

“Harry?”

He looks up at me and his green eyes widen. His face breaks into a grin.

“Hermione! Look at you! You’re lovely. Sit down.”

I feel so stupid for feeling so good at those few words of praise. I feel especially stupid that my heart quickens when he reaches up and tugs at a few stray, bushy wisps of hair. He looks into my eyes and immediately puts his hand down.

So something did happen with that hug. It wasn’t all my imagination…unless of course he doesn’t feel comfortable touching his best friends girlfriends hair.

“I knew you’d come,” he says.

“Harry, I want to ask you something personal.”

“Yes, I’m finished with Ginny.”

“That’s not it,” I say, but it’s good to know.

“Why am I being a wanker and not just saying it flat out?” Harry shrugs. “I don’t want to hurt her. I like her.”

“No, that’s not it either.”

Harry laughs. It’s the first laugh I’ve heard from him since school started. “Then what is it?”

“Why are you so sad?”

Harry gulps down some mead. He doesn’t look up at first. I think he’s not going to answer, and maybe he’ll even be angry that I asked.

“I’m not sad. Not over the war, or Voldemort, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

“Something’s missing,” he said frankly. I thought he’d tell me he doesn’t know, but he does know. At least a little bit.

“That something is?”

“I don’t know.”

He’s holding back. I can feel it.

“Ginny? She loves you, Harry. She's lost a lot in the war, and you’re all she’s ever really wanted.”

“I care about Ginny.”

“Then be kinder to her, Harry. She’s loves you and she’s hurting.”

“I try to be her friend, but she wants more and...and I don’t. I'm not going to string her along, Hermione. It wouldn’t be fair to her. I’m not going to trap myself in a relationship I know I don’t want just to keep pretending everything is perfect.”

I know he’s dropping a hint about my relationship with Ron. The fact that he thinks I’m trapping myself out of some sense of denial stings, but I let it pass. It’s not true. It's a misconception on Harry’s part.

“I miss our friends. I miss the good people we lost to the war, but I’ve accepted they’re gone forever and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But…” I prompt.

“Hermione, don’t make me say it.”

“You don’t have to. I just want to help you.”

Harry looks me in the eye again. “You do. Every time I see you.”

You can never know what I’m feeling right now, looking into those green eyes and seeing the Boy Who Lived deep inside the Man I—

I look away. I promise that I will never finish that thought.

“Drink?” Harry asks.

His hand is on my leg. It’s not indecently high up, but he’s got a good grip. His hand is strong and warm on the inside of my knee. Like a fool I part my knees just a tad and hold very still, wondering what the hell I’m doing sending a signal like that to a man I know is feeling vulnerable. I pray to God he doesn’t get it, that he’s clueless. I’m Ron’s girl, but it’s Harry’s hand I want on my thigh. I feel guilty already.

Harry moves his hand up an inch and puts it a little further on the inside of my leg before squeezing lightly.

He’s not clueless at all. He got the signal.

He wants it.

“I need a drink,” I shakily whisper. I catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I look unsettlingly pale, and I know exactly what I’m going to look like in twenty-five years. I can’t imagine how Harry heard me over the din in the room, but he did. He slides his hand from my leg.

“I’ll get it,” Harry says.

I’m gone by the time he returns to the table. I think he knew I would be.

I’m avoiding Harry too, now, after what happened in the Three Broomsticks.

Why didn’t I just ask for a drink? Why didn’t I make small talk rather than trying to fix Harry? I’m always trying to fix him and now look what’s happened. Why the fuck did I open my leg and invite him to put his hand in deeper? What was I thinking?

And what was he thinking by doing it?

I feel like a proper slag. I really do. A cheating, lying, two-faced, back-stabbing slag. A bit harsh considering I only let a boy touch my trouser-clad leg, I know, but that’s how I feel.

Ron’s angry with me for rushing off after Harry rather than spending time with him yesterday. I can’t blame him because I can see it from his point of view. He doesn’t say anything about my hair. Not that I expected him to. I could have walked into the common room green and with boils oozing puss and he would have ignored me.

I sit down next to Ron. I watch the first years and think about how massively different Hogwarts is from their perspective. They’re coming into a school that’s still under repairs, and repairs mean that secret passages generations of students have put to good use sneaking about the castle in the dead of night are being sealed off.

I suspect a couple of those passages have just magically moved over a little and some clever boy or girl will find it again. The longer a spell lives, the more it becomes aware of itself until it takes on a kind of life of its own, and there are enchantments on Hogwarts that are literally hundreds of years old.

“Want to go to the lake?” I ask.

“No.”

“Come on, Ron. I didn’t want Harry to be alone.”

“I know, and you didn’t want to be alone with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“How long have we been together?” Ron asked quietly, so that others in the common room can’t hear, even if they’re trying to listen.

“Almost six months.”

Ron nods, as though that says it all.

“What?”

“You don’t want me. I get it.”

“If you think that then you really don’t get it.”

“What’s holding you back, then?”

“Can’t we have this talk somewhere else?”

Ron looks thoughtful and taps his foot on the floor, biting a nail. After a long pause he says, “Meet me in the Head Girls’ study in two hours. Wear something nice.”

“I’m not supposed to have anyone in there,” I say nervously. “Especially my boyfriend.”

This inspires a naughty grin from Ron. “I know. If McGonagall catches us, we’re in big trouble. Exciting, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say without enthusiasm.

Two hours seems to arrive in five minutes, and I meet Ron in the common room wearing the shortest skirt and tightest blouse I own, which from me is still a fairly decent, tasteful ensemble. Still, the outfit hugs my curves better than anything else I own, and it’s above the knee and a little snug.

Ron apparently likes it, the way he’s smiling at me.

Harry’s surrounded by giggling girls, fifth years, all vying for his attention. He’s gotten quite good at dealing with them, but for now his eyes are moving over me, from head to foot and I feel myself flush. Harry’s never looked at me like that before. He smiles until his eyes stop on mine. I think he sees the panic I’m feeling because he starts frowning.

Maybe Ron just wants another wank. He’s been without me when he does it for almost a week now. He takes my hand and looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world as we walk out of the portrait hole and down to the Head Girls’ study on the second floor.

I love my study. It has a personalized library of every book I could possibly want. They check themselves out from any magical library in Britain when I need it, and then I return it to the shelf where it goes back to whence it came when I no longer need it. Most of the time, though, the Hogwarts library has what I need for my studies. There’s also a large desk and a comfortable leather chair for me to sit in, a fireplace of my own, a divan near a set of bay windows that look out on the lake, and a house-elf that services me whenever I want, always unseen, though. The carpet is so plush I often don’t wear shoes. Right now the study is decorated in the red and gold of my house colors.

I gave Ron the password at the start of the school year, and the door opens for him when he says it now. He’d been in here already, apparently, working very hard on creating a romantic environment. A house-elf had delivered dinner, served up on silver trays. Soft music played in the background, the fire roared warmly with large, soft pillows placed close to it for relaxing later. Floating candles lit the room well enough to see, but not much more.

“Ron…I’m impressed!”

I start to relax. This is so much more than I expected. I thought he just wanted to drag me in here for the shag that I’m still not ready for, but this is truly romantic.

“I’m glad you like it. Ginny gave me a few decorating pointers.”

I start to relax during dinner. How on earth Ron managed to get a house-elf to get us smoked duck with portabella mushrooms I’ll never know, but it was delicious. As we ate, I began to realize how nice making up could be. Ron is a good boyfriend and I feel so much affection for him. I want to be an equally good girlfriend, and I know I’m failing at it. I’m just not sure how to give him what he needs without doing something I’ll regret.

That affection deepens a little with the second glass of wine. I’m actually a little excited to move next to the fire and lie down next to him, but at the back of my mind I can’t help but worry about one of the professors, or even the Headmistress, walking in on us.

“Want to make up?” Ron asks. He can be so suave when he wants to be. I think he’s been reading up on this, actually, and I find that sweet.

[Edited. Click here to read this deleted scene]

I stand up to face Ron. Well, I don’t really face him; I just stand there fighting back tears. He surprises me with a quick hug.

“Do you love me, Hermione?”

“Of course I do. You’re one of my best friends.”

I know I’ve said the wrong thing when Ron stiffens against me.

“I’m one of your best friends?”

“Well…yes.”

“That’s it, Hermione? I’m one of your best friends?”

“It’s not like you say you love me all the time, Ron.”

“Why do I need to say it? Isn’t it obvious?”

“Sometimes I wonder if you really love me or if you just want someone to shag.”

“Just want someone to shag? I can’t believe you…Merlin’s pants!” Ron shouts. He throws his hands up in anger, looks around for his tie, grabs it, and then stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Ron, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

He’s gone. He’s just left me crying in the middle of the room, and I collapse on the floor pillows, curled into a ball. I don’t know how long I’m there but I feel the carpet give behind me as someone kneels there.

“Are you all right?”

It’s Harry. Immediately I jump up in embarrassment. My knickers are out in plain view.

“Did he hurt you?” Harry asks.

I’m offended by the question. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harry! Ron would never hurt me.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to think? I hear shouting, Ron storms out, and I find you crying on the floor with your knickers off!”

For a moment I’m stunned, not to mention embarrassed by what Harry may have heard. “Have you been outside the whole time?”

“Yes! You looked scared when you left the common room so I followed you.”

“This is none of your business, Harry! You shouldn’t follow me like that. You shouldn’t skulk outside the door spying on me and…”

Being completely honest, I’m more embarrassed than angry. I know Harry means well, but he’s invading my privacy, he’s standing too close again, and frankly I’m just miserable.

“I’m sorry. I was only trying to look out for you. It’s what you and I do, Hermione. We look out for each other no matter what.”

“Ron’s safe. You don’t have to look out for me with him. Can you give me some time alone? I need to tidy up in here.”

Harry looks around the room, takes in the candles the dinner leftovers, the wine, the mess Ron left on the floor, and my knickers in my hands, and I swear his eyes look hard with jealousy.

I can’t help it…

I like the look of jealousy in Harry’s eyes.

Chapter 4 – Eye of the Beholder

The next morning I go down to breakfast with Ginny. Ron’s already at the table eating, and while he’s polite, he doesn’t make an effort to speak. He answers my questions and then busies himself eating. Ginny gives me a concerned look and I shrug.

Harry isn’t there when we arrive, and he doesn’t show up. I’m grateful for a distraction when my subscription to the Daily Prophet arrives, and after putting a coin in the little purse attached to the delivery owl, I open the paper to the front page.

The news isn’t good.

“Sons of the Serpent? What’s that?” Ginny asks, looking at the front page from her place beside me.

We immediately dig into the article which features a large image of a serpent in the sky that looks eerily similar to the serpent that snaked out of the mouth of the skull in Voldemort’s Dark Mark.

“It says there’s a new organization of Dark wizards forming in Romania. They’re demanding the release of several high profile Death Eaters or they’ll begin attacking key Ministry personnel.”

“Excuse me, Miss Granger,” a first year girl says nervously. She’s in Gryffindor and I know she lost her oldest brother in the Battle of Hogwarts. She seems much too small to be here, away from her parents. “Professor McGonagall wanted me to give you this.”

“Thank you, Elsa.”

I take the note and open it. McGonagall wants me and Ron to come to her office right away. I give Ginny the paper and promise to fill her in on what’s happening as soon as I see her during our next free period.

“This probably has something to do with that new Romanian lot,” Ron says, finally speaking up. I nod silently in agreement. We don’t speak again until we reach the Headmistress’s office.

McGonagall is already in conversation with Harry, who sits in one of the three chairs at her desk. She has us sit, and I notice Harry avoiding looking at me as much as I avoid looking at him. I can’t help but think of last night, him standing there so close I can feel his body heat, my knickers in my hand, his eyes flashing with jealousy, me wishing he’d have just done what he does in my dreams and pushing me to the floor to—

“I wanted to speak with you before you could see this morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet,” McGonagall begins.

“Too late, Professor, we’ve seen it,” says Ron.

“I thought as much. There’s a new threat arising in Romania. Several escaped Death Eaters, as well as their supporters, have formed a new organization called the Sons of the Serpent. While they don’t call themselves Death Eaters anymore, they’re of the same ilk. They uphold the ideals of pure-bloods reigning supreme over all others in the wizarding world. They’re calling for the release of several key Death Eaters currently imprisoned in Azkaban. If they don’t get what they want, they threaten to assassinate the people on this list.”

McGonagall hands us each a copy of a letter with the seal of the Auror’s department on the letterhead. There are twenty-five names on the list, all of them recognizable as having either been in the Order of the Phoenix, or very close to and supportive of Order members. The Muggle Prime Minister was also listed, at number six.

My eyes read off the top five names. Harry Potter was number one unsurprisingly, followed by Ron, myself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Ron’s dad, Arthur Weasley. As I read, I find several other familiar names further down the list, including George, Bill and Fleur, and the wandmaker Ollivander. I wonder why Ollivander would be a target by this group. Voldemort had a reason for seeking the wandmaker, but this group…what could they want with him? Do they know of the Hallows? Do they know of Horcruxes?

“My family is as popular as ever, I see,” Ron says grimly. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes it back.

“It’s not a surprise, Mr. Weasley,” says McGonagall. “Your family is considered to be the very worst blood traitors. I’m surprised your mother isn’t on the list, considering she killed Voldemort’s top lieutenant; Arthur and Bill have been instrumental in convicting many Death Eaters who may otherwise have escaped justice, not to mention the three of you are directly responsible for defying and then defeating Voldemort himself.”

“Is Draco Malfoy involved in this new group?” Harry asked.

McGonagall shakes her head. “As far as we know he is not. I believe that he and his family are trying to put the past behind them and want nothing to do with dissention of any sort.”

“What is the Ministry going to do about this new group?” I ask.

“We’re increasing security around the school as best we can. Aurors will patrol the grounds while repairs continue on the castle. As Head Boy and Girl, Miss Granger, you and Harry have offices that are connected to the Floo Network. Kingsley has had your hearths disconnected for safety reasons. No one will be allowed in and out of the castle via the Floo Network for the duration of the school year except on Christmas. That will be handled in the Great Hall.”

“Are they really that much of a threat?” Harry asks with interest that bothers me. He doesn’t seem to be the least bit afraid. In fact…I’d say he’s feeding off the possible danger involved in this new group.

“From what Kingsley tells me, the Sons of the Serpent are very well organized and well-funded. The magical community of Romania is, if you’ll forgive my candor, a cesspool of Dark magic and corruption. It’s almost impossible for any nation to extradite a criminal once they flee to Romania, regardless of what they’re wanted for. I’m surprised Voldemort himself didn’t base his entire operation there. Russia has had several ministry officials die or disappear in the past three months, and we believe the Sons of the Serpent are behind it.”

“Who leads them?”

“We don’t know. We don’t even have suspicions at this point. We do, however, have reason to believe they have operatives in Hogsmeade. As of now Potter, Weasley, Granger, consider yourselves on lockdown. You’re not, for any reason, to go further than the Quidditch pitch without faculty or Ministry supervision.”

I expected Harry and Ron to protest, to remind McGonagall that if Voldemort himself had a hard time catching them, then they could handle a few Death Eater fugitives and their gang, but thankfully neither of them did. They just nodded and she dismissed us. I’m glad they didn’t argue. I guess they’re growing up more than I sometimes give them credit for.

“Fancy some practice on the pitch?” Ron asked Harry, as soon as we left McGonagall’s office.

Harry grinned and said, “Sounds like fun. I could do with a good game.”

Or maybe they’re not as mature as I thought they were.

“Are you both mad? Didn’t you hear anything McGonagall just said?”

Just like the old days, they both ignored me and made plans to meet on the Quidditch pitch in an hour. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but both Harry and Ron walked off together chatting and laughing and happier than I’ve seen them since the end of the war, like they’ve been waiting for a moment like this since Voldemort’s fall. Perhaps they have. Perhaps they’ve been fighting for so long they don’t know any other way. Especially Harry. His entire life has been one long struggle against something, and that hurts me in a way I can’t really put to words, and I’m very good in putting my feelings into words.

I go looking for Ginny at once.

***

“It’s sick, how happy they are to hear we’re on some nutter’s assassination list,” I say one windy Saturday morning while getting dressed.

November has rolled into December. Snow falls outside, covering the grounds with a glittering white blanket that sparkles in the sunlight that breaks through the cloud cover. Ginny and I dress for the cold and put on our makeup. Harry and Ron tell me I’m overreacting, but Ginny sides with me—at least in private.

“It’s like they don’t know how to be happy without a target on their backs,” she says, blotting some excess gloss from her lips. Ginny is a strikingly beautiful young woman. I feel a pang of jealousy, especially when I think of how well she and Harry have been getting on lately. Are they back together and just not saying anything?

It’s none of my business anyway.

Ginny turns away from the mirror looking thoughtful. “I can understand Harry’s reaction. He’s been a target literally before he was even born. He’s had people bully and try to kill him his whole life, but what’s Ron’s excuse?”

“I think he got used to it being friends with Harry. I know I have. Unlike them, I hate this. Life was just starting to seem normal, and now here comes another gang of Dark wizards with our names on their hit list. I’m honestly scared, and they’re acting like they’ve won some kind of prize.”

“You don’t fancy even a little danger?” Ginny asked, brow raised.

“Not even a little.”

Ginny shrugs. “I guess that’s what makes them different from us. I guess this is what makes them Auror material and not us. See you at dinner. Harry and I are going to study in the library.”

“Friends again?” I ask with false cheer.

Ginny smiles brightly. “Yeah. We study and talk. We’re not as close as I want, but I think we’ll get there, especially considering how news of being a target again has cheered Harry up. See you!”

“Bye.”

Harry’s getting closer to Ginny while he and I are back to the way we were. I should be relieved. I should be happy for her, but I’m not.

***

Defense Against the Dark Arts has always been my weakest subject. Professor Malden is a wonderful teacher, but he’s demanding and with all my other classes, I’m struggling to keep up. I’m getting E’s in every practical exam. Harry couldn’t find it funnier that the tables are once again turned and he’s getting O’s.

“You’d think I could do better after all we went through last year,” I grumble.

“Stop by my study after dinner,” Harry says. “We’ll go over Blinding curses together.”

“I won’t be interrupting anything with Ginny, will I?” I say, smiling.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I told you, she and I are just friends.”

“That’s not what she thinks, Harry. She thinks you’re getting closer.”

He’s serious when he nods. “I’ll talk to her again. This time I’m going to tell her there’s someone else I like.”

I gulp. It’s so embarrassing, an automatic response to an unpleasant surprise. “You have someone else you like?”

Harry nods. “I like her a lot. She doesn’t know it, but I’m mad about her. See you around eight?”

“Yeah.”

I watch Harry hitch up his bag and walk away. He’s not terribly tall, but his shoulders are very strong, so are his arms. I remember he carried me in those arms one night when I’d hurt my ankle while we were looking for the Horcruxes.

I look like a prat, standing in the corridor, watching Harry disappear into the long shadows of early evening, feeling like I’ve just been dumped by the only man I’ve ever loved. I hitch in a breath and turn to go into my final class of the day, Advanced Runes, and find Ron leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes hooded.

“Ron! You startled me!”

“I’ll bet,” he says coolly. He pulls the door open for me and I start in.

“Want to go for a walk tomorrow evening after dinner? We can talk about this mystery girl of Harry’s…or not…”

“I have an idea who she is, but I don’t want to talk about her,” he says.

Ron swallows and leans against the door, looking at me. My heart pounds in my chest. He saw my reaction to Harry’s admission that there’s someone he likes. He saw that it hurt me in a way it shouldn’t have and now, here he stands, hurting too.

Deny it, I tell myself.

Denying it will only confirm it, I hear in the back of my mind. For Ron and for me.

“A good walk will do us good. We’ve been hemmed in this castle for so long.”

Are those tears in his eyes? They look red, but he’s blinking too fast for me to really tell and now I feel horrible.

“Ron?”

“Harry and I are going to go flying around the pitch tomorrow.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. McGonagall doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to be away from the school.”

Ron’s voice is hard, a little rough like he’s just come in from the cold. “I really wish one of those Serpent blokes would take a shot at me right now. Their mistake.”

“Ron—”

“I’ll pick you up after class. If Harry doesn’t get here first.”

Ron starts off down the corridor. I make sure we’re alone and rush after him. He needs me to rush after him too, rather than always seeing me run after Harry. I grab his shoulders and push him against the wall. I kiss him hard and in a way I’ve never kissed him before. Ron’s so surprised he drops his bag, and in a moment he puts his hands on my hips.

“You’re the only one I want to walk with,” I say in a stupidly high-pitched voice that verges on hysterical. God, the pain in Ron’s eyes is like a knife. I care about him so much. If I ever lost his friendship because I can’t control my stupid feelings…

Ron kisses my forehead and then grabs his bag.

“You’re the last person in the world I ever want to hurt, Ron. You have to know that. You’re my friend. You’re…you’re so much to me.”

My proclamation of friendship is so terribly inadequate and we both know it. He needs to hear I’m desperately in love with him. I need to know I can say that and mean it, but I know I can’t because it’s not true. I want it to be true, but it’s not.

Ron can’t quite blink fast enough to keep the tears from being noticeable.

“You’re my friend too,” he says. “I’ll pick you up after class.”

Ron walks away, heading the opposite direction Harry did. I watch him disappear, and for the first time in my life I decide to skip a class, heading up to my study where I can be alone with my misery.

Chapter 5 – Eyes Wide Shut

Harry’s study is set up almost identical to mine layout wise, but the decoration is completely different in that he hasn’t actually done anything to decorate it. His bookshelves contain only material he needs for the classes at hand. The décor is red and gold, the same as mine, and except for a desk, a couple of chairs opposite, and a standard divan by the window, there’s nothing that personalizes his office. There’s no soft carpet, only a hard wooden floor.

I have Muggle photographs of my family. Harry hasn’t put up the photos he inherited from Sirius, or the ones given him by the Weasleys, of his parents and the Order. He hasn’t made any effort to make the room his own space, something that says the room is Harry’s study. I ask him about this when I arrive to study Blinding curses.

“What’s the point? I’ll just have to take it all down at the end of the year,” was his reply.

That spoke volumes to me. Harry doesn’t feel grounded. He doesn’t feel safe. He doesn’t understand making something feel permanent, or even long-term.

I want to speak with him about it, but before I can open my mouth I’m suddenly blind.

“Harry!”

The room hasn’t gone dark. It’s disappeared into an impenetrable void of blackness that makes me feel dizzy and unsteady. I feel like I’m falling into an endless abyss. My arms pinwheel, searching for anything to hold onto and anchor me to the world that intellectually I know is around me, even underfoot.

Harry’s arms catch me just as I’m about to tip over in a panic.

“Hermione, don’t analyze me over this study,” Harry says calmly. His breath is warm in my face, just above my eyebrows, and it smells of some kind of whiskey and peppermint. It’s not an unpleasant combination. It’s something he’s drank recently.

When I feel steady, I’m aware of the wooden floor beneath my feet and Harry’s warm body pressed flatly against mine. One of his hands is low on my back, partly touching my bum, the other is just above that. I’m torn with so many emotions. I’m angry that he’d curse me without any warning whatsoever, and yet I’m nervous about the feel of his body pressed against mine. He should have let go a long time ago but he doesn’t. I start to pull away, he holds on.

“Undo the curse,” I demand. My voice is embarrassingly shaky.

“Don’t you trust me not to hurt you in the dark?” he asks.

“Of—of course I d-do.”

“Then why so nervous?”

“I’m blind! Undo the curse!”

“You know how to counter the curse,” he says. His voice is very close. I can feel his breath on my face with each word her speaks. I hate the cliché of being made weak-kneed by a man, but my knees are starting to feel as though they’re literally turning soft from the inside.

“I know, I have to want to see,” I say. I do want to see, but it’s not working.

I feel for my wand, pull it from my belt, but drop it with a loud clatter to the floor.

“Harry, undo the curse.”

“You have to really want to see. Do you want to see, Hermione? Is it really important to break the curse so you can see again? That’s how this one works. The magic is in you, not your wand.”

His left hand, which is high on my back, comes around to push away a bushy lock of hair from my forehead. I know what’s coming as surely as I would know it if my eyes were wide open. I can feel my eyes widen but it does nothing to allow me to see. The world remains completely without light or form.

Harry’s tongue slips into my mouth. His lips cover mine. It’s not a shallow and uncertain kiss. It’s the kiss of a familiar lover. A moan escapes me and damn it, I do nothing to stop it. I only stand there, slowly entwining my tongue with Harry’s. It’s a delicate kiss, gentle and yet unbelievably arousing.

My body is almost completely supported by Harry now. Not to be vulgar or crass, but a throb is developing deep in my cunt, and I realize that I’m moaning as the pressure inside me builds deliciously…all from just a kiss.

Harry has lifted me from my feet and turned me so that I’m pressed into the desk. He pulls my legs apart and then pulls me against him. He’s not hard just yet and in the back of my mind I wonder if I’m the only one affected by this kiss. I want to look at him so much. I want to see him. I need to know that he feels as much desire for me as I feel for him.

When I open my eyes he’s standing before me. I can see again. He’s looking down at me. His glasses reflect my pale, frightened eyes. Harry suddenly pulls away and goes to fetch my wand from the floor.

“You have to truly want your vision back. It might not seem like it now, but that’s the easiest curse to break, especially if you don’t have a wand.”

Anger and embarrassment course through me. He was teaching me a fucking lesson? Was he really serious with what he just did? He used a kiss to teach me how to break a fucking curse?

“I suppose if you’re in a life and death situation, it’ll be much easier to truly want to see. I hope you never have to put that one to the test.”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve slapped him. He hisses and brings a hand up to his face and then looks at me, eyes flashing.

“You…you…”

I know. How will Harry ever recover from such a tongue lashing as ‘you…you…’? It’s the best I can come up with.

“If I’d have just told you to want to see again, we’d still be standing here,” Harry says calmly, even though his eyes register his annoyance at having been slapped. He offers my wand and I snatch it away, ready to run from his study in humiliation. I’d gone weak in the knees, I’d moaned into Harry’s mouth for fuck’s sake, and all the time it had meant nothing to him! Now he knew. Now he knew how much I’d like it, how much I wanted it…

God did I want it! I’ve never in my life felt that level of lust for another person. I would have let Harry put his hands anywhere he wanted. I would have let him fuck me on his desk like I’m some common whore, romance and candles, and doing it ‘right the first time’ be damned, and all the while he’d only been teaching me a lesson for Defense Against the Dark Arts!

“Aren’t you going to try the curse on me?” he asked, as though this was a sort of thing which always happened whilst revising.

“Why? So you can show off how you’ve already mastered it?”

I can feel tears stinging my eyes. My entire body is hot with embarrassment. My fucking knickers are about to leak through. I’m afraid if I get off the desk I’ll find that I’ve left an embarrassing wet spot there.

“You bastard!”

“Hermione—”

I’ve decided that I’ll get my bag another day. I move around him but he grips my arm tightly and pulls me back until I’m against the desk again.

“You shouldn’t kiss me like that, Harry! I’m your best mate’s girl. I’m your best mate! Plus you’ve got this mystery woman you’re supposedly mad about. You could have come up with another way—”

“Hermione.”

“—to teach me how to break that curse!”

He’s maddeningly calm. “Hermione.”

“Tonguing me that way was wholly inappropriate!”

My voice is so shrill it’s starting to hurt my throat.

“If you’ll just wait—”

“You should save your kisses for this woman you’re supposedly so wild about. Why aren’t you busy kissing her right now instead of teaching me ‘lessons’ with your tongue?”

I’ve finally broken through. I’ve finally cracked his calm exterior. His green eyes are positively flashing. “You want me to kiss her?”

“Yes, go kiss her! Go teach her a lesson!”

“Fine! I’ll kiss her, then!”

I’m shocked by what happens next. I expect him to storm out of the room. Instead, Harry grabs me again, taking my face in his hands. There’s no gently slipping his tongue into my mouth this time. This time he comes in hard, kissing me deep and fast, almost angrily. I’m so upset I start to push him away, but he won’t stop until I quit trying to push him away and give in to what he wants. He moves his hands from my face to my bum, picking me up and shoving me back onto the desk so that he’s leaning over me.

My anger is gone now. I don’t know what to think or what I should feel. I’m completely consumed in confusion and lust. I’ve never seen this side of Harry. I’ve never felt this kind of raw passion in the man kissing me and liked it. I’ve felt it from Ron, but it never seemed right. It always seemed dirty and wrong.

Harry pulling my knickers off really is dirty and wrong, but I like it. He throws his glasses carelessly to the side and pulls my legs up, shoves my skirt up, and then moves from my mouth straight to my thighs. His tongue seeks me out and a moment later he’s suckling my clit with surprising expertise.

I’m feeling things in my body right now I didn’t know was humanly possible to feel. I know I’m yelling but I can’t control myself. If anyone is outside the study they may think that I’m in peril for my life, but damned if I can shut my mouth. My entire world is nothing but physical sensations that I’ve never experienced before.

I come hard as every muscle in my cunt contracts, sending ripples of pleasure so deep into the core of my body that I’m completely lost in the feeling. The sky could literally be falling outside the window and I honestly wouldn’t know it. My whole body is humming and I never want it to end.

Unfortunately it does end. Slowly, wonderfully, but it does come to an end. I open my eyes as my breath returns to me. I look down at Harry, who is leaning over me. He’s got my legs up over his shoulders and a look of amazement on his face. I realize I’ve started to sweat all over my body, and Harry’s chin is shining with my juices. He wipes his face, but he can do nothing about the large wet stain on his school cardigan.

I’ve just had my first orgasm with the last man on earth I ever thought would touch me this way.

Chapter 6 – And So It Begins

Harry stands at the window to his study with his glasses back on and his arms crossed tightly across his chest. I put my knickers on as quietly as I can, grab my wand, and try to think of something to say. My legs are still wobbly. I have to lean against the desk for support as I put my knickers back on. I’m such a mess. I need a bath and I need to just be alone, but I feel like I should say something.

Sensing that I’m still in the room, just standing there mutely, Harry finally turns to face me. The first thought that goes through my mind is that I can’t believe I’m the girl Harry has feelings for and not Ginny, or even someone else.

“I know what you want to say. It can’t ever happen again,” Harry says. He turns back to the window. “I understand.”

For some reason, this hurts me. I want him to tell me to leave Ron so I can be with him. I don’t make that promise because I know he’s right. Nothing like this can ever happen again. It was a terrible mistake—one I won’t repeat no matter how much I may want to.

I grab my bag and leave Harry’s study.

The walk back to the Gryffindor common room seems to take forever. My thighs feel strange. I can’t stop thinking about them, and what’s between them, and how I felt deep inside when Harry…didallthosewonderfulthingswithhistongue…

I bite my lip. I can’t help it, I feel like smiling. I feel completely different. Satisfied and happy and—no, not happy—I feel giddy. I feel giddy and giggly and a little bit dirty. I like the dirty feeling. I want to be dirty again someday, with Harry and no one else but Harry. Ever.

This must be what afterglow feels like…

The good mood evaporates when I reach the common room and find Ron at a table in the corner poring over an essay for some class. Charms, probably. He doesn’t look up and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s too engrossed in what he’s doing, or if he’s ignoring me. Either way I don’t care. I don’t want to look him in the eye tonight. I don’t want to face the guilt that will come when his gaze locks with mine. I just want to soak in a hot bath and let my mind wander.

That’s exactly what I do when I reach my floor and find the bathroom is blessedly empty.

***

Christmas break will be here soon. Harry will undoubtedly go to the Weasleys for Christmas like always, while I go home to my parents. That hasn’t changed, at least.

Two nights have passed since my encounter with Harry. There’s guilt to be had when I face Ron and Ginny, and I swear I will never again allow myself to be alone with Harry, lest something happen. Something delicious and forbidden. I sometimes feel like I belong on the cover of some horrible romance novel, but when I think about Harry’s tongue on me I don’t care.

I’m surprised the dreams haven’t returned. Two straight nights go by and Harry doesn’t turn up in my dreams. Perhaps now that I’ve satisfied my curiosity about what it would be like to do something naughty with Harry I’m finally getting over it. Maybe now I can move on.

Breakfast of the third day I’m sitting across from Harry. Ron’s beside me this time, hand on my leg. Nothing demanding, but warm and familiar. I like his touch. I like that it’s friendly and comfortable. Ginny sits beside Harry, and they’re reading the Daily Prophet together.

“Nothing more about that Serpent lot,” Ginny says, sounding relieved. Long experience has taught me that no news is bad news. It means they’ve dug deep underground, and they’re busy. We won’t hear anything from them until they’ve done something terrible. I’m not looking forward to that.

I look up to examine the cover. Harry looks up at me and licks his lips.

I know he didn’t do it on purpose. I’ve seen him look up from the paper whilst eating cereal and lick his lips a thousand times over the years. His actions are no different now. That’s why my reaction surprises me. It’s like that bubblegum tongue of his moves in slow motion. The whole world slows down, and there’s only Harry, licking sugar from his bottom lip, and my thighs squeeze tight of their own volition. I don’t know how, but I stop the moan in my throat before it can escape. My heart is thundering. I may as well be back on Harry’s desk, his head between my legs, the feel of his tongue softly rubbing my clit, and his hands stroking my legs and running lightly over my belly.

“Hermione?”

Ginny is looking at me with sincere concern.

“Are you okay? You’re face is so red!”

“Is it?”

Oh, God, my voice is two octaves too high, I just know it. Ron puts a hand to my forehead. I bat it away.

“I’m fine. I just…I need some fresh air. I think I’ll head to class. Goodbye!”

“But you haven’t eaten anything,” Ron says.

“I’ll get something at lunch!” I say, and hurry off to potions.

***

My study is a welcome refuge before lunch. I lie down on the divan and look out at the lake, which is covered in snow around the shore. Only toward the center does the water move. It’s black but choppy in the windy winter air. There’s a knock at the door. I bid whoever it is to enter, hoping it’s not someone in need of tutoring.

I hear a very specific sound as the lock engages. It’s the audible result of an advanced locking spell, a silent one that isn’t easy to break. Ron doesn’t know that spell. I taught it to Harry on the hunt for the Horcruxes. I know he’s behind me. Without word, he slips into the space between my back and the divan.

This would be a good time to object. This would be a good time to remind him that we’re not supposed to do anything like this again, but I can’t find the words to tell him no. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seek verbal permission. He only runs the tips of his fingers up the length of my leg. I pull my shirt out of the waist of my skirt and Harry puts his hand flat against my tummy.

His touches are amazing. He doesn’t make a single attempt to grope anything. He only runs his fingers lightly over my body. The tenderness begins to drive me mad and makes me want more. I turn on my back and look up at him. My skirt falls away from my knees, bundling up at my hips, exposing my white knickers. Harry doesn’t take his eyes from mine as he slowly runs a hand down the inside of my parted legs and then up my tummy again.

“Harry…” I breathe.

“We have thirty minutes before lunch,” he says in a steady voice. “What happened at breakfast?”

I’m a little thrown by his apparent lack of arousal. I suppose I should be glad that one of us is in control because he’s right. We don’t have time to risk anything more than these stolen few minutes. “You licked your lips. It made me remember.”

Harry smiles at this. “Any regrets?”

I shake my head no. He leans down to kiss me, his hand still flat on my tummy. We indulge in a few minutes of this. It’s intimate and tender, and I never want it to end.

“You go to lunch first. I’ll come down a few minutes later,” he says. “I won’t lick my lips.”

I laugh and kiss him. I kiss him and wish we could spend lunch here, alone, but that would raise suspicion.

“Are we starting an affair?” I ask.

Harry doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he takes his hand from the warmth of my tummy and pulls my shirt down.

“Yes. Do you want to quit before anything else happens?”

I sit up beside him and fix my clothes. When I’ve got them sorted, I lay my head on his shoulder and then loop my fingers through his.

“No.”

And so it truly begins.

Chapter 7 – It Is Finished

A/N: This is a double update, so be sure to look for chapter 8 after this chapter.

***

As much as I want to be with Harry, as much as I know he wants to be with me, nothing happens between us again after the encounter in my study. All we have to do is look at one another and see the shame in our eyes.

Now I sit in the common room watching the younger kids playing Exploding Snap, gossiping, or studying as best they can with the noise. Harry and Ron sit with a game of chess in the corner. While Ron contemplates a move, I watch Harry look at him, and I can plainly see guilt and torment on Harry’s face.

Harry looks at me, and then runs a hand through his hair. I know what needs to be done. I need to end it with Ron. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him to hate me, but I know that if he ever finds me with Harry I’ll have lost him forever. If I end it now, I can still hope that one day we can come back from it and be friends. If I continue betraying him then Ron will be completely justified in hating both Harry and me.

Check mate for Ron. The game is over, and the two of them get up from the table and come over to me. I have a choice to make. Ron’s happiness or mine. I think I’ve known for some time which one I will choose.

“Dinner,” Ron says. “Let’s hope they serve something good. I’m sick of steak and kidney pie.”

We walk down to dinner and find Ginny standing very close to a Ravenclaw boy. They have their fingers hooked loosely together, and she’s unaware of our presence.

“Who’s that?” Ron asks, looking at Harry to gauge his response. Harry clearly isn’t phased that Ginny has found someone.

“Robert Littleton,” I say. Robert is very handsome, slender and tall with light brown hair and gray eyes.

“You don’t seem bothered,” Ron says to Harry, when we sit down.

“I’m not,” Harry says honestly. “Ginny and I are friends. I told her I wanted her to move on.”

Ron shakes his head. “I thought you two would make it.”

Harry doesn’t respond. What is there to say?

Dinner is the usual, but that doesn’t stop Ron from eating seconds of everything, even steak and kidney pie. Nothing can dampen his enthusiasm for food. Under the table I feel the tip of Harry’s boot against the tip of my shoe. I ease my foot forward so that our ankles are together. It’s amazing how good that simple contact feels. I imagine what it would be like not to have to hide my feelings for Harry. I wonder what it would be like to see Ron find a nice girl and let me go, but he won’t be able to do that as long as we’re together.

***

Ron asks me for a walk after dinner, but it’s too cold, so we agree to go to the Prefects Bath. I know what he has in mind, and after the two encounters with Harry I know I won’t be able to go through with anything. I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching me but Harry. I’m his now.

With a tap of his wand, Ron starts the water running, choosing not to add soap but to swim instead. I sink into the water, and when I surface, Ron pulls me to him and hoists me up so that I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. He kisses my neck.

“Ron, we need to talk.”

“Yes we do. I want you to come to the Burrow for Christmas break. We could use some time alone.”

“I plan to spend Christmas with my parents this year.”

“You always spend Christmas with your parents.”

“I didn’t get to last year.”

“All right, that’s fair. I’ll pick you up on Boxing Day. You can sneak into my room at night, since Harry said he has plans this year.”

“He does?”

“He says he’s going to tell us about it tomorrow. Supposed to be something big.”

Ron slips his hands under my bum and begins to subtly lift me up and down against his cock. I try to pull away just enough to keep any kind of friction from building up.

“Ron, you know I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says huskily.

I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. My throat is very tight. It’s a struggle to speak the hardest words I’ve ever spoken to Ron in my life. It’s easy to yell at him when we’re angry. It’s not easy to tell him something he needs to hear when I don’t want to get a dig in at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m not in love with you.”

It was said. It was spoken and it could never be unspoken. I could try to take it back but I won’t. Ron is very still. He’s stopped trying to grind me against him. I feel like I should say something else, but the words won’t come.

When I let go and look him in the face, I see the heartbreak I knew would be there. His blue eyes, wet with tears, stab at my heart. I start to cry. I want him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry. I tried to be in love with you but…”

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

“No!”

“It is. I saw the way you looked at him. It’s always been Harry, even if you didn’t want to admit it.”

Ron’s getting angry now. He pushes me away, and I slip away from him to the edge of the pool. Ron runs his hands through his sodden hair.

“Ron, I—it’s—”

“I knew it! I remember you wanted him to be prefect with you. I started to suspect something then. You hated it when you found out he kissed Cho. I could tell you didn’t like things between him and Ginny, and you were happy when you realized he wasn’t going to get back with her. You’ve always taken his side in everything. You’d run off and get yourself into any kind of danger for him.”

“He’s our friend! Ron, I’d put myself in danger for you too and you know it.”

“Because I’m your friend,” he says scornfully. “Well I wouldn’t ask you to die for me, would I?”

“Harry never asked me to die for him. He’s never asked anyone to do that. Ron, what we did in the fight against Voldemort was for everyone’s good, not just Harry’s!”

I don’t know why I’m so angry right now. Nothing Ron’s said is completely wrong. I did hate Harry kissing Cho, I didn’t like him with Ginny, now that I look back on it. I thought I’d put on a pretty good show, but I guess Ron saw through me. He’d always seen through me because he was looking harder than most.

“Are you fucking him? Is that why we’ve never really gotten close, because you’re fucking Harry behind my back?”

“I am not fucking Harry!”

Thank God that’s the truth, at least. I just hope he doesn’t ask if there’s anything at all going on. If he does, I’ll have to lie, and I think Ron will know I’m lying.

“This isn’t about Harry, it’s about us. Ron, I do love you as a friend. I’m just not in love with you. I can’t keep this up anymore. I’m trying to do right by telling you. It’s not Harry’s fault that I’m not in love with you.”

“We’re finished? We’re actually finished?” he asks.

I nod, and Ron swims to the side of the bath, climbing out and grabbing a towel. I beg him to talk about it, but he refuses to even look at me. He gets dressed and storms out, leaving me alone in the bath. I realize the mermaid is watching. I don’t want to cry in front of a sentient painting, so I get dressed and leave the bath as well.

As much as it hurts, as much as I hate hurting him, I’m glad I’ve finished it with Ron.

***

When I get back to the common room, I find it in complete chaos. There’s a fight in the center of the room. Ginny’s screaming for Ron to stop. I push through the throng to find that Ron and Harry are on the floor, with Ron struggling to get atop Harry, punching him over and over in the side. Harry’s face is a mask of pain, but he manages to roll over onto Ron and punches him hard across the jaw. I draw my wand and think Protego, which forces the two of them apart.

Harry and Ron stand, and Ginny goes to Ron’s side at once.

“It’s not true, Ron,” she says, but she doesn’t sound quite convinced. She sounds very uncertain, actually.

“You’re fucking my girlfriend!” Ron shouts breathlessly. There are several titters of laughter in the room from some of the other students who hide in the crowd, their faces unseen.

“I am not,” Harry says. I’ve never heard his voice sound so low and dangerous.

“You want to.”

“Ron!”

I move through the crowd and order everyone to bed, even though it’s only 8:30. I promise detentions to everyone present if they don’t obey, so they scatter, grumbling. They all want to stay and watch the spectacle of the trio who brought Voldemort down crumbling under jealousy and suspicion.

Ginny faces me. She’s pale and her eyes look wide and scared. “It’s not true, is it?”

“No, Ginny. Harry and I aren’t sleeping together.”

“Why else would you break up with me? Why else would Harry end things with Ginny? He says he has some mystery girl he loves. We all know it’s you!”

“Ron, I broke up with you because I’m not in love with you,” I say as calmly as I can. “You shouldn’t have attacked Harry like this.”

“There you go again, siding against me for him!”

“Did Harry start it?” I ask.

Ron swallows. “No, but you just assume that it—”

“Because I know you, Ron,” I say with what I hope is calm reason.

Ron looks me in the eye, turning away from Harry. “If you’re not in love with me, who are you in love with?”

“No one.”

I’m surprised at how easily I lie to Ron. I don’t know why. I suppose it’s easy to lie to protect someone you love, and I want to protect Harry, Ron, and Ginny. We’ve been friends for eight years. I don’t want to lose that now if I can help it, but doing the right thing is usually harder than doing wrong. It was so easy to let Harry touch me, to drive me wild while I was still dating Ron, knowing that if he found out it would break his heart. Yet it was so hard to end things with Ron so I could be free to be with Harry like I wanted.

God, how did I get myself into this mess?

***

I feel like I’ve ran a hundred miles by the time I climb into bed that night. When I walk into the room, Ginny’s curtains are drawn, but our other three roommates are whispering among themselves. They break it up as soon as I walk in and cheerily wish me goodnight. I dread getting up and going to class already. I know that for weeks to come I’ll hear nothing but whispering wild rumors. I’ll have to put up with stares and giggles and suspicion.

I draw my curtains, but Ginny pulls them open, startling me. She’s been crying, but I’m too tired to care right now.

“This is the last time I’ll ask,” Ginny says. “Are you sleeping with Harry? Is that why you broke up with Ron?”

“No, I’m not sleeping with Harry. I broke up with Ron because I’m not in love with him anymore.”

“Are you the mystery girl that Harry has feelings for?” Ginny asks.

“I don’t know, Ginny. Harry hasn’t said anything to me about that.”

I think she knows I’m lying, but she has no proof otherwise. She closes the curtain, and I can’t help but think she’s closing the curtain on our friendship as much as she’s closing the curtain to give me privacy.

Chapter 8 – Heartbreak Warfare

By the end of the second day of my breakup with Ron I’m as angry with him as he is with Harry and me. Thanks to his little spat he, Harry and I are the only subject of gossip, whispering behind hands, and giggling as I can stand. Not only are people not bothering to hide what they’re saying, they’ve begun to take sides, usually with Ron. I can handle this because frankly I’m on his side too. I’m the one who let another man go down on me in my study while I was still dating Ron, but none of them know that. Even Ron doesn’t know it; he just suspects something is going on. The fact that he’s right is the only thing that keeps me from telling him off.

Still, I feel I have the right to be angry too. He had no right to transmit our business to the common room at large with his stunt. I know he acted out of anger, rather than reason, but it was a stupid move on his part.

Then there’s Ginny. She’s claimed to move on (she has a boyfriend, after all), but she treats me as though she and Harry were an established couple and then I took him from her, which is not the case. Harry made it clear to her from the beginning that he didn’t want to reconcile. I can understand her anger with me over her brother, but…I miss her. I miss Ron, I miss Ginny, and I just wish I could travel back in time and do it all over. I can’t, though. I can’t have Harry and them, and knowing that hurts.

Harry…I can’t help it that I love him. Despite how poorly we’ve handled things, I still can’t bring myself to regret my feelings for him. They go beyond the physical into something that, for me, is so deeply emotional it’s almost spiritual. I love him with my heart and soul. I always have. He’s damaged. He’s good. He’s lost so much in his life and I know that it’s time he finally got something he wanted. What he wants is me. Knowing that makes me stupidly happy.

“Have you seen this?”

Ginny slaps the Evening Prophet on the table beside my plate. I look at the picture in the gossip section, which is written by none other than Rita Skeeter, and inwardly groan. There’s a photograph of Harry, Ron and me standing at the exit to Hogwarts watching Voldemort’s body as it’s levitated out by the Ministry. I don’t remember that photograph being taken, but I do remember the moment. Harry and I take one another’s hands while Ron stands a short distance away, watching Voldemort. The headline is atrocious.

TROUBLE WITH THE GOLDEN THREE

By Rita Skeeter

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley are famous around the wizarding world for playing a key role in bringing about the demise of the Darkest wizard the world has ever known: Lord Voldemort. The three of them have returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in order to properly complete their education, but more is going on between them than revising for NEWTS.

Reliable sources inside Hogwarts have informed me that a love triangle has formed between the three, who are commonly referred to as The Golden Three. According to sources Ronald Weasley has discovered that his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, has been engaging in an illicit affair with Harry Potter, the Chosen One.

I put the paper aside, unwilling to read another word. “Rubbish,” I say. “Ron has discovered no such thing!”

“So you deny that anything’s happened between you and Harry?”

“Yes, I deny it. Even if it has, what business would it be of yours, Ginny? It’s not like Harry is your boyfriend.”

Ginny’s face flushes. I’m sure she’s going to go for her wand, and I’m ready to go for mine. I’m immediately sorry I lost my temper with her, but it doesn’t go that far. Wands stay put, no curses or hexes fly.

“Ron is my brother,” she says tightly. “You’ve hurt him.”

“I didn’t mean to! Would you rather I lied to him? Don’t you think that would have hurt him worse in the long run?”

“I’d rather you admit that you’re a lying hypocrite. He’s better off without you.”

Ginny storms off, and I look around to see the immediate area is completely quiet while everyone stares at me with mean-spirited glee in their eyes. Great, more fodder for their gossip.

“Get on with your dinner! There’s nothing to see here.”

I grab my bag and leave. My appetite is long gone.

***

Usually a hot bath is just what I need to soothe away the stress of a really bad day, but this time it’s not helping. My head throbs. By the time I’ve dressed for bed I have a full migraine.

The next morning Harry takes a seat across from me at breakfast. Ron and Ginny have segregated themselves at the end of the table, surrounded by their supporters.

“What a nightmare all this is,” I say miserably.

Harry’s leg touches mine under the table. It’s unseen but comforting.

Harry says, “Sorry I didn’t see you yesterday. I was tutoring some fifth years in patronuses. What do you say we revise tonight in your study?”

There’s something playful in Harry’s green eyes when he says this. I know that studying is the last thing on his mind, and I feel some relief. We hadn’t touched in so long. We haven’t been alone in so long that I was beginning to wonder if anything that had happened between us was even real, and not one of my vivid dreams.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Tonight at eight,” he says quietly. “We can’t let anyone know. Things are bad enough as it is, and we’ll never get Ron and Ginny’s friendship back if—”

“I know. I agree. We’ll keep this secret.”

“For now,” he says, and smiles.

We go to classes all that day pretending to be just friends. There’s no touching, no lingering looks, nothing that would give anyone reason to believe that the rumors about us seeing one another are true. After lunch I head off for a tutoring session and pass Harry in the hall.

“I can’t wait,” he says softly. His fingers brush against my hand, and I want nothing more than to drag him into a dark room and press myself against him. I want his arms around me more than anything.

Eight o’clock seems to take forever to arrive. At 7:30 I’ve bathed and used my favorite shampoo. I search through my dresser and realize that I need some naughty knickers. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Every pair I own could belong to my mother and meet with her approval of being decent. Big knickers. That’s all I have are big ugly knickers. I try some creative stitching spells and only manage to mangle a pair beyond repair so I give up and decide not to wear any at all. I hope Harry doesn’t find that too forward.

I laugh immediately. Harry and I are far beyond being too forward. We haven’t been forward enough in my opinion. We won’t have to worry about that now. I’m free, he’s free, we can do whatever we want.

I feel naked when I leave the common room. I’ve never worn a skirt and no knickers before. It’s awkward. I vow I’ll put the entire common room in detention with the grossest, most difficult tasks possible with Hagrid and Mr. Filch if one of them attempts any kind of levitating hexes on me. Not that any of them are stupid enough to attack the Head Girl who also assisted in bringing down Voldemort himself.

It’s difficult not to run to my study. I wonder what I’ll do first when I get there. I think I’ll throw my books aside and rush into Harry’s arms. I’ll put my legs around his waist and grind hard into him while I tongue kiss him.

Perhaps I’ll set my books down and then perch primly on his lap. I could draw things out, make it fun. I can drive him mad until he throws me down on the floor and has his way with me. Anything is fine with me as long as I can feel Harry’s hands on my body.

“Victorious,” I say to the gargoyle that guards my door. He releases the door handle and moves aside so that I can enter.

I nearly scream in frustration when I hear Ron’s voice, even before I see him.

“—been a right twat about the whole thing. I hope she can forgive me.”

“What are you doing here?” I demand angrily, throwing my books onto the table beside the door.

Harry doesn’t look too pleased with Ron’s unexpected presence either. Ron holds a dozen pink roses that look more suited to Madame Maxime’s grasp than mine. He undoubtedly took them from Hagrid’s garden.

“Hermione. I saw Harry in the hall and he said you two were supposed to do some revising for potions class. I thought I’d take the time to come in and—”

“You came here to see if you could catch Harry and me in the act,” I say. I know his real reasons for being here.

There’s an unmistakably malicious glint in Ron’s blue eyes. “You do look awfully disappointed to see me. For someone who only plans to revise, I mean.”

“Of course I’m disappointed to see you, Ron! Why would I want you here after the way you acted the other night?”

I’m randy, damn it, and I had plans to have Harry’s cock in my mouth. I don’t say that, though, but it’s the real reason I’m so damned angry.

“Hermione,” Harry begins, but I’m not going to let him excuse Ron’s stunt. Not a second time.

“Thanks to you we’re in the gossip column of the Evening Prophet!”

“I came to apologize,” he says, holding up the roses. “The only girl I’ve ever really loved had just finished with me. I was angry and I did something stupid. I’m sorry.”

But I want to be naked and skin on skin with Harry…

He looks pitiful. I’m still not sure how genuine his remorse is. I know Ron. I’m convinced he’s trying to keep Harry and me from ever being alone. He’ll probably invent some excuse to monopolize our time, and we won’t have a good reason to say no if Harry and I are trying to convince him that nothing is happening between us. Harry gives me a look that I know means I should accept the flowers, so I do.

“Forgive me?” Ron asks.

“I’m still upset with what you did but…yes, I forgive you.”

I can only imagine how upset he would be if he’d seen my behavior with Harry just prior to our breakup. He’s been a good friend to me for eight years, I owe him this much. I grab an empty vase, enlarge it and fill it with water from my wand, and then set them on the shelf behind my desk. Ron settles down and grabs his bag, pulling out his potions book.

“So, what do we study tonight?” Ron says brightly.

“Hallucinogenic potions and their antidotes,” I say dully, and crack open my book with a heavy sigh.

Chapter 9 – Carpe Diem

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. I’ve been very sick lately, suffering from anemia. To make up for it I’m posting chapters 9 and 10 together.

I almost panicked when I felt a pair of strong hands reach out and yank me into the supply closet on my way to the Gryffindor common room. I went for my wand, thinking the Sons of the Serpent had infiltrated the school and I was under attack, but it turned out to be Harry.

“Don’t hex me,” he said throatily, and laughed.

I think Harry was going to say something else, but I didn’t give him the chance. I silently used the most powerful locking and privacy spell I knew while throwing myself against him and kissing him furiously. So far Harry has been very suave when he touches me, running his hands over my body in ways that slowly arouse me, but this time there’s desperation in his touch. His hands still roam my body, but he makes no secret of his desire to feel my skin.

I moan when I feel his thumb against one of my nipples. They’re so hard it’s damn near painful. He pushes me against the wall and lifts me up. Like in many of the dreams I’ve had about being with Harry, I wrap my legs around his waist and he grinds into me. He knows just the place to press against me and starts an excruciating rhythm that makes me gasp every time he presses.

“Harry,” I whisper. “I want you.”

He hesitates and uses his wand to cast a sphere of golden light that hovers over us, illuminating the dark closet.

“Not here,” he says, swallowing. “I want it to mean something.”

“No, not that,” I say, knowing he thinks I mean our first fuck. “I want to taste you. I want you in my mouth.”

I’m surprised I could say it so bluntly with so little embarrassment. Such dirty talk is usually enough to make me blush just thinking it, but I’m able to say these things to Harry without shame. He sets me back on my feet. There’s a small table in the back and he sits on it and unbuttons my shirt before unhooking my bra, which unfastens in the front, and frees my breasts. He takes the time to enjoy suckling each of my nipples and kissing me before asking if I’m sure I want to do this.

Damn right I’m sure I want to do this. “Take off your shirt,” I tell him.

Harry smiles and pulls his sweater off. God, he’s so beautiful. His muscles are developed, and there’s this line of black hair that goes from his navel and disappears into his trousers, which are tight from his erection. I want to be on my knees so badly that I quickly undo his trousers and pull them down until he’s fully exposed before me. The tension inside me is tight.

I’ve read about how to do this, but I’ve never actually put anything into practice. I hope I don’t do anything embarrassing, like scrape him with my teeth or gag. I decide to start by taking his cock in my hand and holding it up so that I can lick his balls. I’m pleased with the moan this illicits from him and follow up by boldly putting my mouth over his balls and gently sucking them.

“Hermione…fuck…”

Harry turns out to be a vocal lover. I know I’m pleasing him when I run my tongue up the underside of his cock and then begin suckling the head while I use my hand to jerk him. I try not to move too fast. I’m enjoying every sound, every taste, and I don’t want to rush it. At the same time I don’t want to torture Harry either. I pick up the pace until he tells me he’s about to come. I take him out of my mouth and he comes on my breasts. I’ve never had anyone’s spunk on my chest before. I thought I’d hate it, but I don’t. I continue stroking him until his release is complete.

When it’s over I use my wand to siphon off Harry’s cum. We quietly dress, but Harry spends a few minutes softly kissing me before stroking my face.

“He’ll want to know where we were.”

“Maybe we should tell him,” I say.

Harry shakes his head no and pulls me close, resting his hands on my arse.

“He knows, Harry. We can deny it, but he knows.”

“Not yet.”

I nod in agreement. “We were walking,” I say simply. “If he doesn’t like that we wanted to hang out that’s his problem, not ours.”

Harry smiles. There’s something in his eyes that I don’t know how to identify. “So practical,” he says. “I love that about you, Hermione.”

“The day I broke up with Ron, he said you had something big to tell us.”

“I bought a cottage in Godric’s Hollow,” Harry says.

“Harry!”

“Kingsley is going to cast the Fidelius Charm on the place on the first day of break. I want you to be the Secret Keeper.”

The trust Harry shows in me by asking me to be his Secret Keeper touches me deeply. I love him so much right now it literally hurts. It’s an effort to swallow but I do and nod yes.

“Of course I will.”

He kisses me again. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I leave first, careful to make certain we’re not being watched, and head off to class. I wish Harry and I didn’t have to skulk around like this, but at the same time I want to keep this our little secret, because I know that as soon as word of our relationship gets out, not only will we lose Ron and Ginny, we’ll gain all the unwanted attention of the press, including Rita Skeeter’s savage quill.

***

Ron is missing.

This is the last day before the start of Christmas break, and Ron has gone missing, along with Ginny’s boyfriend Rob Littleton, and a Slytherin girl named Grace McDonald.

Now Harry, Ginny and I sit in Professor McGonagall’s office with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley. Mr. Weasley has come in because it’s his son who has gone missing, and Kingsley has taken the investigation himself since it most likely involves the Sons of the Serpent. Ron was named on the list of their highest valued targets, and now he’s gone.

Despite our recent differences, I reach out to take Ginny’s hand, and she squeezes my hand in return, holding onto me. Her back is straight and her face is stoic, because that’s Ginny—strong in the face of fear and uncertainty, but I feel her hand tremble in mine.

Kingsley asks all the usual questions, like when was the last time we’d seen Ron, what was he doing, what was his state of mind, was he with anyone else that he doesn’t usually associate with. We all had the same useless answers. We’d seen him that morning as we prepared to walk down to breakfast like always. He’d said he needed to use the loo, one that is frequented by Gryffindors on the way to and from the common room and the classrooms, and would be straight down.

“That was a bit unusual,” Ginny says thoughtfully. “He’s never detoured to the loo like that before.”

“Was there anyone around? A student you couldn’t place, or perhaps from another house who wouldn’t have a reason to be there?”

“Sometimes my boyfriend comes up to walk down with me,” Ginny said.

“Your boyfriend’s name?”

“Rob Littleton.”

Kingsley and Arthur exchange a glance.

“What?” Harry asks, picking up on this.

“The Littleton family has reported death threats from the Sons of the Serpent.”

“Why? What was their connection to Voldemort?” asks Harry.

“He’s got a cousin married to a Squib. This cousin of his killed a Death Eater in a duel a few months before Voldemort’s fall. It’s a very loose connection, but still…Robert Littleton is among the missing.”

“What is Grace McDonald’s connection?” I ask.

“Her mother was a suspected traitor, harboring Muggle-borns and Squibs during the last war. It’s never been proven one way or another. The McDonald family has never been named by the Sons of the Serpent in any of their correspondence with the Ministry.”

“Once again I’d like to ask about Ron’s demeanor. Did his behavior seem out of sorts in any way?”

“When we were in the common room he was quiet, like he was upset about something, but he wouldn’t say what,” Harry says.

“Do you have any ideas what he could have been upset about?” asks Kingsley.

Harry and I exchange a look with Ginny.

“It’s important you give Kingsley every detail,” Mr. Weasley says.

“Ron thinks Hermione broke up with him to be with me,” Harry says.

“Did you?” Kingsley asks. His voice is completely neutral. I know he doesn’t care who I date, at least not on a personal level, but he will care if it has anything to do with Ron’s disappearance, and frankly so I do.

“No,” I say. Part of me fears they know I’m lying, but my voice is strong and confident. I hope I’m convincing. Ginny pulls away, leaving my hand to feel suddenly cold, even in the warmth of the office.

“When did you first suspect Ron may be in trouble?” Kingsley presses.

“Ron has Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and a free period with us before lunch,” I say. “He didn’t show up for any of them. At first I thought he was blowing classes off, but when he didn’t show up for free period I got worried. It’s not like Ron to skip classes.”

“Do you have anything, Kingsley?” asks Arthur quietly. He, too, is a stoic man, but he’s already lost one son, and I can see the fear that made his jaw clench and unclench as he rubs his chin.

Kingsley shakes his head. “I have a team interviewing students and sweeping the grounds, but so far nothing.”

Harry, Ginny and I are dismissed. Professor McGonagall wants us to work with the Prefects to organize the students to remain in the common rooms of their respective houses until they’re released for Christmas break tomorrow. We also have the duty of working with the Aurors who will patrol the corridors to make sure no one wanders around alone. We leave the Headmistresses office together, but Ginny pulls ahead of us, heading for the stairs that will take her to the Gryffindor common room. I start to go after her, but Harry holds me back.

“It’ll just start a row. Let her be by herself,” Harry says.

I turn to Harry. I haven’t been this scared since I was on the run from Voldemort, but then I had Ron there. Well, most of the time. The times he wasn’t there I had reason to believe he was safe at home. Now he could be off somewhere, getting tortured, and it scared me to death.

“I know what it’s like to be tortured by the Cruciatus curse, Harry. What if they’re doing that to Ron right now? What if they’ve killed him and they—”

Harry pulls me into an alcove, out of the sight of any passersby, and hugs me close, telling me Ron is a fighter and a survivor. He’d been to Hagrid’s looking for Ron prior to reporting to the Headmistress's office, and I can still smell the fresh winter air in his clothes, mixed in with the smell of the soap that I like so much. I breathe deeply and take comfort in his embrace, and the feel of his hands on my back.

This is what I love most about my relationship with Harry: the friendship we’ve built up since we were eleven years old is like a solid foundation underfoot in a storm of fear and uncertainty. We can’t stay long. We don’t want anyone to happen upon us and fuel even wilder rumors than are already circulating about us. Harry kisses me slowly, and softly, and then we set off to tend to our duties.

Chapter Ten – Firsts

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. I’ve been very sick lately, suffering from anemia. To make up for it I’m posting chapters 9 and 10 together.

Harry and I send the students off to bed at 10:30. We’ve done the headcount, and with the exception of Ron, all Gryffindors are accounted for. I sit up in the common room watching the fire blaze in the hearth and hoping Ron will come through the portrait hole with some harrowing tale of abduction and miraculous escape. Of course that doesn’t happen.

I decide to go to my study, leaving instructions with the Fat Lady that no one is to leave the common room, and no one is to enter even with the password unless it’s a teacher or the headmistress or there’s an emergency. When I arrive, I start a fire in the hearth and then extinguish all other light. I lie down on the divan and stare out at the snow that had begun to fall earlier that day.

At some point Harry joins me in the night, after I’d fallen asleep. I awaken when the clock in the corner chimes 5 o’clock. I can feel Harry’s even breathing behind me. He’s asleep, but he’s also fully erect. The feel of his cock pressing against my bum is oddly exciting. I ease against him and begin to move, rousing Harry from sleep with light friction. He comes awake with a moan that makes me wet my knickers.

“Hermione…” he whispers.

I’m fully awake now, still afraid about Ron, and for some reason that fuels my need to be closer to Harry. I pull off my top and my bra, and shrug out of my skirt and knickers. Harry eagerly pulls off his clothes, and soon we’re both naked on the divan, skin to skin like I’ve dreamed for so long.

Our kisses are fast and hot. Our hands are eager to feel every inch of one another. Harry moves atop me and I wrap my legs around his waist. I go by instinct alone. My body pulses with need. Harry is beautiful in the dim firelight from the hearth, his green eyes vibrant in the golden light. I can feel him trembling as he holds himself in check, trying not to rush this.

He begins to push into me, and I’m surprised by the pain, and how quickly it puts a damper on my mood. Once he’s all the way in, I realize how tense I’ve become, how much it hurts to have a man inside me. He kisses my brow, holding still, and strokes one of my legs and kisses my forehead, urging me to try to relax into it. Something that’s easier said than done. Regardless of how much it hurts, the intimacy of the act is amazing; it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

Harry comes closer to climax. I can feel his muscles tense. His skin is slick from sweat. I hold onto him, run my hands down his back, and listen to the sounds of our bodies coming together, like the soft, wet sound of Harry’s thrusts, his increasingly loud gasps that turn to low moans. I feel something approaching pleasure for the first time as he says my name in a voice strangled with lust. He thrusts hard into me on with a final cry of carnal need and I feel his release deep inside my body. It’s hot and thick, and there’s so much of it…. He trembles as he comes, and then relaxes heavily onto me. I hold Harry, and stroke his sweat-slicked back. Part of me is happy that it’s over, while part of me longs to be with him again. For the first time in my life I’ve shared my body with someone I truly love, and I don’t regret a moment of it.

When it’s over Harry holds me and we say I love you for the first time. The clock chimes 6 o’clock and we know we have to get up and back to the common room to help organize the students to leave for the holiday.

“I’m going to stay here, at school, and work with the Aurors to find Ron,” Harry says, pulling on his trousers.

I still can’t believe I’ve just had sex…

“I should stay too,” I say, pulling my skirt on.

“You have a family who needs to see you,” says Harry. He shrugs into his undershirt.

I’ve actually had sex…

“I can return early, on Boxing Day.”

I’m not a virgin anymore…

I pull on my shirt and tidy my clothes. Harry slips on his shoes. I’m still in awe that we’re getting dressed after having shagged. I feel like I’m in a dream. I’m so happy and so in love that I’m not able to feel guilt or fear about Ron or anything else. I wonder if that makes me a truly horrible person.

The high doesn’t last. Outside the security of my study I return to the real world. I bathe and dress, and go down to breakfast with the other students, making sure everyone is still accounted for. The return to the mundane, seeing Ginny’s face pale with worry, brings me back down to earth and all the problems I left behind last night before going to my study, and making love with Harry.

I catch my reflection in a goblet. I still look like myself, but I’ve changed so much from the young girl who first sat at the Gryffindor table, anxious to learn all I could about magic and the world of witches and wizards.

I look at Ginny, who sits across from me. She’s not just worried for Ron, she’s worried for her new boyfriend. “They’ll come back. The Ministry will find them.”

Ginny nods; her breakfast is untouched. There are dark circles under her eyes. I’m sure she wonders where I spent the night. I’m sure she knows who I spent the night with, but she doesn’t say anything. I think that argument is truly over with now.

“You can always send a Patronus, or an owl if you need to talk,” I say.

Ginny nods again, and then stands. “I know. Goodbye, Hermione.”

She leaves the Great Hall, and I watch her go with a deep sense of loss. For the past few years Ginny and I have gotten really close. She’d become one of my best friends, and now I’ve lost her forever.

I look over at Harry, who looks back with a great deal of understanding in his green eyes. As much as I care about Ginny and Ron, I wouldn’t trade what I have with Harry for them or anyone else. For me, he’s worth losing a thousand friendships. Tentatively I reach out for his hand. He takes it and squeezes it back. We sit there like that for a few seconds, uncaring of how many eyes watch and judge us.

***

Christmas this year is even more miserable than it was last year. Last Christmas I was on a mission with Harry to save the world. This year I’m sitting in front of the telly watching Muggle shows I’ve never heard of, missing Harry, scared for Ron, and wondering when I’ll get to see either again.

Mum is trying to help, but she doesn’t really understand my situation because I haven’t told her. I informed her that I left Ron to be with Harry; that Harry and I are keeping our new relationship a secret, and that I feel like a traitor. She assures me that I’ll figure it out in the end, and then asks if I’m being careful with Harry.

That’s when it really hits me that I had unprotected sex and that Harry didn’t pull out when he came. I marvel at my own carelessness. I’m always the one who thinks things through, who is practical and doesn’t forget the details in the heat of the moment. I plan ahead, always thinking about the consequences of my actions. How could I have felt Harry come inside me and not once stop to think about pregnancy? That’s so unlike me. Love can make you do mad things, I’ve heard, but I’d never have thought I’d behave so carelessly.

Nearly in a panic, I excuse myself, tell Mum and Dad that I’m going shopping, and head out to buy a pregnancy test. Not just any pregnancy test from a Muggle store. They’re too unreliable. Instead I go to Diagon Alley with my hoodie pulled up to conceal my face, and I pick up a more reliable magical pregnancy test. Actually I get two kits so I can retest later to be absolutely certain. I also get some contraceptive potions to be taken once a week, and then hurry home, arriving just before dark.

The entire trip I’m aware of the Auror who is tailing me. She looks new, and isn’t very good at concealment. I just hope she has a sense of discretion. I hope the clerk at the store will keep her mouth shut too, but I won’t be surprised if my business ends up plastered all over Rita Skeeter’s gossip column in the Evening Prophet.

The potion and the accompanying spell are complicated, but nothing I can’t handle. It will take twelve hours for the entire process, but it can tell almost immediately if conception has occurred. I embarrassingly have to pee into the little cauldron where the potion is, and then hurry it to the room to put it over a Green Flame, something not easily conjured: it heats only certain magical elements. It’s 8pm by the time I’ve got the entire test set up correctly. I’ll know tomorrow morning if I’m pregnant.

I go to sleep and awaken on Boxing Day two hours before the test yields its results. I have dreams of telling Harry that I’m pregnant, of us trying to decide whether or not to keep it (abortion is frowned upon in the magical world, since our population isn’t as abundant as the Muggle world, but they are legal), and I can see Ron’s horrified face when he finds out I’m having Harry’s baby. My head is splitting by the time I roll out of bed and step into the shower.

Eight o’clock finally rolls around. I’m cursing myself, telling myself to never ever be this irresponsible again. I’m not ready for children. While I can’t imagine having a baby with anyone but Harry, this is not the time. We have our whole lives ahead of us, careers we both want to build. While a child wouldn’t stop us from achieving anything we want, it would make it so much more difficult.

I stare at the cauldron, waiting to watch the steam change color from its natural green to either blue for negative, or red for positive. At three minutes after eight o’clock I’m in a panic, but then the steam suddenly curls up a very pretty sky blue shade.

I collapse onto my bed and cry with relief. I’ve had my first pregnancy scare. When I’ve gotten control of myself, I pack up the kit and dispose of it, and then prepare to go out with mum. It’s the last thing I want to do. I’m hoping for word from Harry, or anyone, about Ron.

I’m spared an unwanted trip out when a stout tawny owl pecks on the living room window. I allow him in, give him some water and owl treats, and remove the letter attached to his leg. He takes flight at once as I sit down to read the letter. It’s from Harry.

Go to the front door

I’m suspicious at once. Although it looks like Harry’s hand, it could be a trap. Perhaps whoever took Ron, right out of Hogwarts, has also come for me. I strengthen my grip on my wand and check to see that Dad is snoring in front of the telly, and then I head cautiously to the front door. When I look through the spy hole I see a mop of bright red hair. My hearth thunders. My instinct is to throw the door open to see if it’s Ron (I’d know that hair anywhere, it looks like the top of his head), but I’m wary of a trap. I Summon the Sneakoscope from my room, but it remains quiet and still.

“Just open the door, Hermione,” I hear Ron say.

Unable to resist another second, I throw the door open and find Ron standing on my doorstep, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ron!”

With tears in my eyes, I throw myself into his outstretched arms.

***

“I was dropped off at the Burrow Christmas morning,” Ron explains over tea.

“They had you for four days. What did they want?”

“I wish I knew. They kept me locked in this dingy cell. It looked like the belly of a castle. There were others there. I knew two of them. Rob Littleton and Grace McDonald.”

“But how did they get you?”

“I went into the loo, saw Rob lying on the floor, Stunned. I went for my wand but before I could get to it I got Stunned too. Next thing I know I’m in that cell. They held us for four days and then came back, stunned us, and turned us loose. Kingsley said Rob and Grace were also returned home.”

I find his story hard to believe. Not that I think Ron is lying, I just can’t imagine anyone kidnapping him just to hold him in a cell and then release him, unharmed.

“You don’t believe me,” says Ron, sounding disappointed.

“Of course I do! I just can’t make sense of it. Why kidnap you and not say or do anything?”

“Kingsley says they wanted to send the Ministry a message. Nobody is safe. They can get to any of us at any time.”

“Has anyone been released from Azkaban?”

Ron shook his head no. “If their demands aren’t met, though, they may start hurting or killing people.”

I question him extensively, but nothing Ron says gives me a clue as to who these people really are, or what their agenda is.

“They seem so disorganized,” I say. “Like they don’t really have any experience in what they’re doing or how to achieve their goals. They’ve been quiet…until they took you they didn’t even seem to be a threat.”

I take Ron’s hand. “I’m so happy you’re back safe.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I…I thought about you while I was in there. I thought about how things have been lately…”

His voice trails off awkwardly. I hope he doesn’t ask us to give it another go. I swallow, because I don’t want to reject him again.

“Look, about you and Harry…if there’s something going on there, I’m all right with it. It’s really none of my business anyway, but…I’m okay with it.”

He looks so sincere. This would be the perfect chance to come clean with him about Harry, and to put his words to the test, but something holds me back. This is Harry’s decision too. It’s not up to me to tell Ron anything.

“Hungry?”

“Nah, I ate at mum’s. Actually, I have to get back before she goes mental with worry. Oh!” he hurries to shrug into his jacket. “Harry came to the Burrow yesterday to see me. He says he has a new place in Godric’s Hollow. He wants me to see it. He’ll come round to collect us tomorrow. I can’t wait.”

“How come no one called me when you returned?”

“Didn’t have a chance, did I? Kingsley interrogated me almost all night, then Harry and Ginny and mum. As soon as I could get away I came to see you. Dad’s outside waiting, so I have to go. See you tomorrow.”

Ron leans in and kisses me on the mouth. It’s inappropriately soft and intimate, but I let it pass. He’s been through a lot. A little kiss won’t kill me. I walk him to the door and wave to Mr. Weasley, who waves back with a smile. He’s clearly happy to have his son back.

I watch them drive away in the ministry car and then shut the door, leaning on it. I’m thrilled to have Ron home, but nothing he said made any sense. Who were the Sons of the Serpent, really? Why had they kidnapped three students from Hogwarts and not asked them a single question, only to return them home on Christmas day?

More importantly, had Ron’s ordeal really given him a change of heart about our breakup, and me seeing Harry? My stomach is tight with turmoil. I know I don’t have a reason to be wary, but I can’t help it.

Something is wrong. I just don’t know what.

Chapter 11 – Locutorian

Harry’s cottage isn’t at all what I expected. I thought he had bought something at least as nice as the cottage that Bill and Fleur owned, but this place is…honestly…a dump. Harry calls it a challenge. I call it hopeless, which makes him laugh.

“Why would you want this, Harry? You can afford better.”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

He leads me to the sitting room window and waves his wand in the direction of the graveyard, which is in partial view. Most of it is obscured by the church and shrubs, but there is a row of gravestones visible from where we stand. A filament of silvery light floats into the air, waving in the same manner that grass would slowly wave in an underwater current. I understood then why he would want this exact cottage, which had been condemned before Harry purchased it.

“That’s not all.”

He took my hand and we made ourselves up the rickety old staircase to the second floor. Harry pulled me excitedly down the short hallway to the master bedroom. It was a cramped, dusty space with an old half-bed that had been dressed in clean sheets. At the window he pointed, and I could see the rubble of his parents’ old house.

“Oh, Harry…”

He stood behind me, then, and wrapped his arms around me. He rested his chin lightly on my shoulder.

“I want to fix this place up, Hermione, so that when I’m here I can see what I have left of them. I want to know the kind of happiness they didn’t get to have right here.”

“They were happy, Harry. Maybe not for long, but they were happy.”

“I know, but they didn’t get to experience seeing me grow up. They didn’t get to experience growing older together. I want that…with you.”

I turned from the window and faced Harry, wrapping my arms around his neck. I can see my reflection in his glasses, and I’m surprised by how troubled I look. I don’t feel troubled at all. I feel overwhelmed that Harry so easily admitted what he really wants from me. I feel overwhelmed by how badly I want to give that to him.

“That’s what I’ll give you. Right here.”

I’m always surprised by how passion can overtake Harry and me. We’ll be in the middle of a peaceful, quiet moment, and then one look, or an innocent touch or kiss can ignite an explosion of desire and need. We go from looking at one another to devouring one another in bruising kisses. My body feels like it’s on fire everywhere Harry touches me. He pushes me onto the bed, pulls down my knickers, undoes his trousers, and in seconds we’re shagging like it’s the last chance we’ll have before we die. The old bed is squeaky and hard, and I’m sure half of Godric’s Hollow can hear it, but I don’t care. All that matters is the feel of Harry inside me. All that matters is that the moment is so frighteningly intense that we lose ourselves in it, in each other, until it’s over and we come back to ourselves. We come back to the real world which is chilly and dusty, and absolutely—completely—ours. Just…ours.

***

Ron comes over the next morning, showing up surprisingly early even for me. He and Harry make a trip to Diagon Alley for supplies. Despite all the wonders that magic can do, it can’t create supplies out of absolutely nothing. They return to the gate struggling with a chest no bigger than a normal school trunk. Once inside the gate, however, the privacy charms kick in and they’re able to levitate it to the back yard without fear of the Muggle neighbors seeing.

From inside the trunk Harry and Ron unload lumber, stones, cement, and an assortment of other masonry sundries—enough to practically rebuild the entire cottage it seems, and then we set to work on the sitting room. Ron does most of the masonry charm work, and by evening we have the room completely restored and better than it looked when it was new.

“Ron, where did you learn to do that?” Harry asks, covered in dust. I’ve set out a dinner of Chinese takeout that I grabbed from the next village over. I’m not as happy with what I’ve witnessed today as Harry is. I know Ron, and I’ve never seen him use such advanced repair charms in the entire time I’ve known him.

Ron shrugged. “I picked a lot of it up from Mum and Dad.”

“We could have used some of that wandwork last year when we were chasing down Voldemort’s—”

“Rice, Ron?” I ask loudly.

“No thanks, I’ve got enough,” Ron says. “Chasing down Voldemort’s…?” Ron looked expectantly at Harry.

“You know, when we were chasing down—”

“Stop!” I shout.

Harry and Ron literally stop in the middle of eating and look at me in surprise.

“We agreed we’d never speak of that again. You promised, Ron.”

Ron furrows his brow.

“You promised,” I repeat. Of course Ron never made any such promise, but my mistrust of him is so powerful that I can’t ignore it now.

“Right, I know I did. Sorry, Hermione.”

Harry is looking at me in complete confusion, but long experience has given him the instincts to know when he should and shouldn’t open his mouth.

“Let’s just eat and clean up, yeah? I’m really tired.”

Dinner is a quiet, awkward affair, and when it’s over Ron helps me clear the dishes, which is out of character for him. He doesn’t ask for desert either, which is also out of character. Harry and I walk him to the door, and for the second time Ron attempts to kiss me directly on the mouth. This time I turn my head and he ends up pecking me lightly on the cheek. That he would attempt such a thing in front of Harry would normally have infuriated me, but now it just worries me.

I shut the door and lean heavily against it until I hear the loud crack of Ron Disapparating outside the gate.

“Hermione, what was that?” Harry asks.

I motion for him to be quiet. “Nothing, I’m just not in a good mood this evening. Like I said, I’m tired.”

Again I motion for Harry to be silent and I draw my wand. Inside the sitting room I use every silent revealing spell I know. Finally a very ancient, complicated spell causes a bubble of light to leave the tip of my wand and float softly to the newly repaired hearth. It disappears a small distance up the chimney, and silently I reach up and feel around until I feel something. I pull my soot-covered hand out to reveal a small silver ball with a rune etched into the side. It’s heavy for its size.

Harry, who has kept up a constant banter of small talk, falls silent.

What is that? He mouths at me.

I replace it where I found it and ask Harry if he’d like to walk off dinner before we come back and go to bed. He agrees and we’re a block away from the cottage before I feel safe enough to speak under the protection of the Muffliato spell.

“What was that thing?” Harry asked aloud.

“A Locutorian. It’s a magical listening device. The symbol scratched into the side is the rune for speaking. Not just regular speaking, but yelling, as though to communicate over a long distance or over loud noise. They’re powerfully charmed, Harry. They may even be able to hear us now, a block away and under a privacy spell. There’s only one way it could have gotten into the hearth.”

Harry and I look at one another for a long time. Neither of us wants to say it, but Harry is the first to break the silence with the truth.

“Ron.”

***

Harry and I find a bench and sit down, watching other villagers rush to the shops before they close, or hurrying home from work. Neither of us is sure what to say after half an hour of arguing back and forth both in favor of Ron and against him.

“I just can’t believe Ron would bug our house,” Harry says.

Our house. The word our had rolled so naturally off Harry’s tongue I’m sure he didn’t realize how it made me feel to hear it. Harry and I have a home of our own and we haven’t officially graduated Hogwarts. I almost giggle, but restrain myself admirably. Now is not the time for giggling.

“I left him for you. I love you in a way I never loved him. We’ve hurt him, Harry, and when someone feels hurt and betrayed they sometimes seek revenge.”

Sirius and his desire to kill Peter Pettigrew came to my mind. I’m sure he came to Harry’s mind as well. He nodded.

“I suppose…but this is Ron. I can’t imagine him throwing in his lot with the Sons of the Serpent. I just can’t.”

“It’s possible he’s being coerced. All I know is he can’t be trusted until we find out what really happened when he disappeared. Did he go willingly or was he really kidnapped? Is he acting on his own or is he under the Imperius Curse?”

“We should talk to Arthur and Molly, see how he’s been acting—”

“No, Harry, we can’t! We could put them in grave danger.”

“Hermione, Ron may want to get back at us for getting together, but he’d never hurt his family.”

“Maybe not, but if he’s being controlled by the Sons of the Serpent they may do something to the Weasleys.”

Harry sighed, nodding in agreement. “If they’ve gotten to Ron there’s no telling who else they’ve gotten to. Is there anyone we can really trust besides each other?”

“We’ll have to try to find someone. I say we go to Kingsley and tell him our suspicions.”

“If we go now they’ll know for certain we’re on to them,” Harry said. “I say we go in the morning and take turns keeping watch through the night.”

I agree, and we start off for the cottage, arm in arm. I can’t help but wonder if anyone on the street is more than who they appeared to be. My skin crawls as we head home. Any number of people could be watching us. Harry’s hand is close to his wand, and I keep my own hand at the ready. Even with Voldemort dead, Harry and I haven’t forgotten how to be wary of attack.

The cottage, which had been such a source of joy only a few short hours ago, now filled me with anxiety. It’s not lost on me that we could have already tipped off the Sons of the Serpent that we were on to them. They could have already sent assassins for us, but if they did they would have to attack now, before we got into the gate. Harry had, thankfully, decided to turn Ron down and make me Secret Keeper for the cottage.

We made it through the gate without incident, but Harry and I took nothing for granted. We checked the place out thoroughly and thankfully we found no more Locutorians. The cottage was empty and cold.

“We’ll kip in here tonight,” Harry said, and Summoned some blankets down from upstairs. I lit a fire in the newly restored hearth, knowing the flames would do nothing to harm or disrupt the powerfully charmed Locutorian that Ron had hidden inside it.

I lay down on the sofa and wrapped myself under the blanket while Harry sat up in one of the chairs and kept a watchful eye on the premises. He’d wake me in four hours and I would finish the watch while he slept.

It was like going back to the fight against Voldemort. Once again Harry and I were on the lookout, and nowhere felt safe—but we had each other. It had always been that way. Harry and I had always had each other, and as I drifted off to sleep I took comfort in knowing it would always be that way.

A/N: The epilogue has also been uploaded, so keep reading after this final chapter. It's good to have completed this fic. I've not had time to write on it since beginning my own career writing original fiction.

*****

The next morning dawned bright and cold. Harry and I quickly dressed and headed out to the front door. I'd sent an owl to Kingsley asking him to meet us for coffee and give us an update on the Sons of the Serpent. I'd applied a charm to the scroll that would turn red wherever Kingsley touched it, letting him know that it was important he meet with us as I'd asked. I hoped he'd understood Harry and I needed to see him but weren't able to tell him outright that something was wrong.

Never one to fail us, Kingsley waited on the street near the cottage, his hands deep in his pockets and his breath puffing out in large white clouds. He approached us and shook my hand.

"How about a cup of tea and a pastry?" I asked quickly, before Kingsley could ask what was going on. "The shoppe is only a few blocks across town."

He nodded and without another word we headed through the busy streets of Godric's Hollow. Muggles rushed about on their way to work or to get some early shopping finished. Their heads were down, their shoulders hunched against the cold wind that had kicked up.

Harry silently applied a privacy spell once we were seated and our tea had been served. Kingsley finally asked what was going on and we filled him in on the Locutorian in the fireplace, as well as Ron's odd behavior.

Kingsley's brow furrowed. "A Locutorian is a powerful magical object. Are you sure Ron is capable of charming one?"

Harry and I shook our heads. "Not to knock Ron's ability as a wizard but I couldn't do it," Harry said.

"I'd have difficulty with it myself," I agreed.

"I've made too many to count in my career as an Auror and even I don't find them easy to charm," Kingsley said. "It's possible that someone gave the Locutorian to Ron. It's also possible that the man you've had in your house isn't Ron at all."

Kingsley hadn't said anything that hadn't occurred to me already, and I could tell by the look on Harry's face he'd thought the same thing.

"He didn't know about the Horcruxes," I said. "That's something Ron definitely would have known."

"I need to bring him in," Kingsley said.

"If this man is an impostor, Ron will be in serious danger," Harry said. "They may kill him if they know we've got their man."

"What do you suggest?"

"Let the impostor know we're onto him and ask him what he wants in exchange for Ron's safe return," Harry said.

"That's equally as likely to get Ron killed!" I said.

"Maybe not," Kingsley said. "We won't take their man. We'll let him report back to his people and tell them that we want to negotiate. There are only two options and we've named them both. We need to get Ron back as soon as possible or they may kill him anyway, if they haven't already."

I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach at Kingsley's words. The idea that Ron might already be dead was more than I could handle.

We agreed to invite the man we believed was an impostor over and confront him about his ruse. Kingsley agreed to hide upstairs while we did it. He sent a Patronus to the Ministry and then followed Harry and me home.

When we returned to the cottage everything was quiet. Harry went to the hearth and removed the Locutorian.

"We need to speak with you," Harry said into it. "We've found your listening device. Come to the cottage…Ron."

He looked at me. Kingsley had disappeared upstairs but his presence was reassuring.

It didn't take five minutes for a knock to sound at the door. Harry opened it and Ron stood there, his face stony. He walked in and sauntered around the room, moving in ways that Ron didn't.

"So, you've figured me out," the man said. "You know I'm not Weasley."

Harry and I nodded.

"You should have played the game. Now they'll kill him," the man said.

"Who are you?"

"Ethan. Last name isn't important."

"Is Ron alive?" I asked.

Ethan smiled at me coolly. "He's alive for now. Don't know how long he's got once I report back. I'd better report back in case you have any ideas about taking me in. If I don't, it's an automatic death sentence for your mate."

"What do you want to free Ron?"

"You," Ethan said, without hesitation.

"Then I'm all yours."

"Harry!" I gasped.

"The girl, too," Ethan said.

For some reason that made me feel better. I needed to stick by Harry. I couldn't allow them to take him off alone.

"Fine," I said. "How do we know you'll release Ron alive and well?"

"You'll have to trust us."

"No deal," Harry said. "We see Ron for ourselves, and prove it’s really him, or the whole thing is off."

"You'll see him dead, then?"

"You won't kill him. Not when you know Hermione and I are willing to turn ourselves over for his release."

"He's on the list too, you know," Ethan reminded us.

"Yes, he's on the list, but it's better to have me--and Hermione--than to just have Ron. I'm the one you really want. We all know it. The Ministry would bargain for me. They won't bargain for Ron alone. You know it."

Ethan nodded. "I'll send an owl by sunset to let you know the terms of the exchange."

He winked at me and then left.

Harry and I stared at one another whilst Kingsley came down the stairs. I felt myself shaking inside. Harry and I had a lot to talk about but we wouldn't do it with Kingsley in the room.

"I'll gather a team and have them back here before sunset. We'll get Ron back safe and sound," Kingsley promised.

"I know," I said.

We saw Kingsley out and then returned to the cottage. I took a seat on the couch and Harry put his arm around me.

"I won't let them hurt you. I'll die before I let that happen," Harry vowed.

"I'm not worried for myself. I'm not even worried for you. I know you can take care of yourself, Harry. I'm worried about Ron. What if he's already dead?"

"He's not. They're using Polyjuice potion to impersonate him. If he was dead the juice wouldn't work," Harry assured me.

I looked at him. "You know what this means."

Harry nodded. "Ron doesn't really know about us."

"Either he doesn't know, or they've told him to torture him," I said.

The thought of Ron sitting in some dank dungeon cell hearing that his girlfriend is screwing his best friend was almost enough to make me sick.

"He'll never forgive us," I said.

Harry sat back and sighed. "I know."

*****

Kingsley returned with five Aurors. An owl arrived an hour after they settled in, showing a small map with the location for the exchange.

"The Forest of Dean," Harry said.

"Surely they know we won't come alone," I said.

Kingsley nodded. "I'm quite sure of it. We'll go along first, feel out the area and get into position."

Kingsley put several dots on the map with his wand, showing a perimeter where he and his Aurors would wait in hiding while Harry and I met Ethan.

Thirty minutes later we left the front gate of the cottage. The trip to the exchange site was short. Harry and I Apparated together a short distance away, our wands drawn, our nerves on end. Every muscle in my body was tensed as we walked north toward the exact place marked on the map.

A middle-aged man, balding and skinny, leaned against a tree. He had watery brown eyes and his skin was dry and flaky. I cringed to think that I'd let that man kiss me on the lips whilst he impersonated Ron.

Ron himself was on his knees, his head down and his hands tied behind his back. I could see an old bruise on his shoulder, where his shirt had been torn. My heart ached at the sight of him. He was so still I thought he could be kneeling there lifeless.

"Ron?" I tentatively called.

He looked up. His face bore evidence of a severe and painful ordeal. There were more bruises and a couple of partially healed cuts. His lip had been busted at some point, probably in a physical fight with someone.

None of that held my attention for long. The look of hurt and betrayal in his eyes as he looked between Harry and me confirmed my worst fears. He knew about my relationship with Harry.

For the first time since I'd met Ron, he looked at me with hatred in his beautiful blue eyes.

"Ethan, I presume," Harry said.

Ethan bowed. "In the flesh."

"I need to confirm it's him," I said.

Ethan nodded. "Approach slowly. You didn't come alone and neither did I."

I went to Ron and knelt before him. I reached out to touch his face and he backed away.

"Don't touch me," he hissed.

"What was Voldemort's key to immortality?" I asked, speaking as low as possible, though I was sure the Sons of the Serpent had brought listening devices, and probably even had one on Ron.

"Horcruxes," Ron said.

"What Horcrux did you destroy the night you saved Harry?"

"A locket. I destroyed it with the sword of Gryffindor."

"When was our first proper snog?"

Ron swallowed hard. "The night Voldemort died. You and I went for a walk to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and sat under a tree. I cried over Fred and you held me. We snogged then."

I was certain it was Ron. I looked up at Harry and nodded.

"It's him," I said.

I used my wand to untie Ron's hands and tried to help him stand but he shoved my hands away. He looked at Harry as though he wanted to kill him.

"Kingsley!" Harry said.

Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged from the trees. He was surprisingly close and I hadn't spotted him.

"Take Ron home," Harry said.

"You're coming with us," Kingsley said.

The curses started flying at once. I was surprised by the viciousness of the assault. I pulled Ron toward the cover of a tree as Harry dueled with Ethan. He proved to be a skilled wizard but he was still no match for Harry.

Kingsley's team emerged from the trees. I was surprised to see Arthur Weasley had also come. He knelt beside Ron.

"Are you all right, son?"

"Yeah. Give me a wand," Ron said. "I want to join in the fight."

"Here's Fred's wand," Arthur said. "I give this to you."

Ron took the wand, gaining ownership over it, and without looking once at me he rushed into the fight. I ran with him. He stood between me and Harry, his wand raised, fighting a gang of at least ten dark wizards. For a few brief moments it was the three of us as a team, fighting against evil. It was just like old times.

Too bad it wouldn't remain that way for long.

Ethan and two of his men were captured. The other seven escaped.

Harry and I agreed to take a room at the Leaky Cauldron while we waited for a team of Aurors to sweep the cottage in Godric's Hollow to make certain there were no more listening devices and that the protection charms we'd put in place hadn't been compromised. Once the place had been declared safe Harry and I returned and finished Christmas break.

Ron stopped speaking to both of us, as did Ginny. She had accepted that she and Harry were through. Her anger at me stemmed from Ron's hurt feelings. Ginny continued seeing Rob Littleton, who had been rescued along with Grace McDonald, based on information gleaned from Ethan during interrogation.

Winter slowly changed to spring. The snow melted, the weather warmed, and our studies came to an end. Harry, Ron, Ginny and I all passed our NEWTS and graduated with offers of work and study at the Ministry. Harry was going to pursue his desire to become an Auror. I decided to pursue a career in equal rights for House Elves and other creatures.

I heard through mutual friends that Ron also intended to become an Auror. Ginny was going to play Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies.

Harry and I gave up trying to talk to either Ron or Ginny. All we received in return were cold stares or angry words. I did see Harry healing a busted lip one evening in his study after a fight with Ron.

The last day of school came in rainy. Harry and I cleared our studies to be occupied the following school year by a new Head Boy and Head Girl. Once everything was packed away I stood in the middle of the room and thought of everything that had happened there over the past year.

I was lost in thought and surprised by Ron's voice behind me.

"So, this is it," he said.

I turned to face him. I didn't waste time on small talk. I had so much I wanted to say to Ron.

"I would give anything to take your pain away," I said sincerely. "I never wanted to hurt you, Ron. Never."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, well, you did. You hurt me very badly, Hermione."

I nodded and felt tears sting at my eyes.

"You really love him, don't you?" he asked.

Again, I nodded. I let the tears fall this time.

"You always have. I guess it was stupid of me to think you two were just friends," Ron said quietly. I was relieved that there was no bitterness in his voice. He seemed calm and thoughtful.

"We were just friends," I said.

"Until you weren't," Ron countered.

He heaved a sigh and took a seat on the divan by the window. I tried not to think of how I'd lost my virginity on it with Harry as I sat down beside him. I tentatively touched Ron's hand. He let me.

"We were the best of friends once," I said. "Will we ever be friends again?"

Ron shook his head. "Not like we were. It'll never be like that again."

"I know we can't go back completely but…will you ever stop hating me?"

Again Ron sighed. "I don't hate you. I did for awhile, I won't lie. I hated you both. I loved you so much, Hermione, and you broke my heart."

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry!"

I threw my arms around him. He was stiff at first, but then he patted me on the back and relaxed a little.

"I wanted to ask you why so many times since I came back. Then I realized the answer to my own question. You can't help who you love. It's not a decision you can make with your head."

I sat back and looked at him.

"I love you, Ron. I truly do."

"Yeah, just not the way I love you. I get it."

He still loved me. To hear it broke my heart because I knew that every time he saw me, at least for awhile, he would feel a stab to his heart.

"Maybe someday we'll be friends again," Ron said. "Maybe someday."

He kissed me on the forehead and stood up. As soon as the door closed behind him I laid on the divan and cried.

*****

Our first night at the cottage was a good one. The repairs on the place were done. It was a small house but it was cozy. It was ours.

Harry came into the bedroom and sat beside me. The bed squeaked loudly as his weight settled in. The rain poured heavily outside and I had the window up to hear it better.

We made love by candlelight listening to the sound of the rain.

A cool welcoming breeze blew through the window and gently caressed my sweat-slicked skin. Harry fell soundly asleep next to me. I watched his face. He looked happy and content, and it made me smile.

Despite everything that had happened over the past year, despite all the pain I regretted causing my friends, I didn't regret what I had with Harry.

I had a life with the man I loved. I had a bright future. Someday I may even regain some of the friendship I'd lost with Ron and Ginny. No matter what happened with them, I would always have Harry's love. I had a lot to be thankful for.

And I was.

-End