Supplements

6.2-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry awoke the next morning feeling slightly dazed and confused by a series of dreams in which Ron had chased him with a Beater’s bat, but by midday he would have happily exchanged the dream Ron for the real one, who was not only cold-shouldering Ginny and Dean, but also treating a hurt and bewildered Hermione with an icy, sneering indifference. What was more, Ron seemed to have become, overnight, as touchy and ready to lash out as the average Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry spent the day attempting to keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no success; finally, Hermione departed for bed in high dudgeon, and Ron stalked off to the boys’ dormitory after swearing angrily at several frightened first years for looking at him.


The next day, rather than try and keep the peace, Harry was walking the grounds with Hermione. Ron had seemed content enough to be sullen in the common room and Harry didn’t bother to try and talk him out of it. Hermione and Harry had been walking for a while in silence before she said anything to him.

“What’s with Ron?” she asked abruptly as they circled the lake.

“Oh – er,” Harry had thought she would ask this, but he had no adequate answer.

“He’s been really back and forth with his mood all year and it’s only getting worse.”

“I really don’t know what to say, Hermione,” Harry told her truthfully. “Ginny was mentioning something about – er – history.” The conversation became twice as uncomfortable as the creature inside him stirred at the memory of Ginny on that day.

“Ron knows I have history,” Hermione answered in irritation, reading between Harry’s ‘er’s’ and deciphering their meaning.

“I suppose he didn’t like being reminded then.” Harry shrugged.

“I just wish he’d talk about what’s on his mind instead of being so rude to people.”

Privately, Harry agreed, but he decided not to say anything, out of loyalty to his friend.

“You think he’s justified?” Hermione questioned.

“I think people should express their feelings,” Harry assured her. “You never really expected that much from Ron though, did you?”

“Did I expect Ron to have some measure of sociable human decency? Yes I did, Harry.”

“I think you overestimate him sometimes,” Harry muttered.

“I know better than to expect perfection,” Hermione responded. “I thought he would at least talk to me though. I thought we were friends.” Her voice quavered on the last word and Harry watched his own feet awkwardly. “Harry?” He looked up into Hermione’s watery eyes and felt embarrassed at intruding on her emotion. “You’re my friend, right?”

“Of course I am, Hermione.” He made sure to keep eye contact as he said this, though he wanted to look away from her tears.

“Y-you would tell me if I’d done something to offend you, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” he repeated.

“Oh Harry.” And she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. “Harry, it hurts so badly.”

“Er – there, there,” he said, patting her back in what he hoped was a comforting way.

“You’re really terribly awkward sometimes,” she said, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I’m sorry,” Harry responded quickly, unsure of what else he could say to comfort her.

“It’s alright,” she told him. “You’re here and that’s what counts.”

She began to pull away from his shoulder and the next thing Harry knew, Hermione’s lips were pressed up against his own. He felt his face growing quite warm as her mouth moved against his. It was a nice feeling, but a strong-willed part of Harry’s mind was protesting and flashing images of Ginny in his head.

‘Ginny’s dating someone,’ he answered the images.

“Harry,” he had barely noticed the motion, but now Hermione was whispering in his ear and it caused him to shiver in a strangely pleasurable way. “Have I ever mentioned how attractive you are?”

“M-might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” Harry answered as she nipped his earlobe. “I think your word was fanciable.”

“That’s right.” Her whispers were heavy and her breath was hot in his ear. “Do you think I’m fanciable, Harry?”

“Definitely,” said Harry quickly, not wanting to hurt her feelings. He was not entirely comfortable with where all of this was headed, but he couldn’t think of a way to let Hermione down easily.

“Tell me what you like about me.”

“W-well,” Harry shuddered as she started kissing his neck. “You’re brilliant for starters.” Hermione mumbled against his neck. “You’re loyal and kind and – level-headed,” Harry tried, struggling to think straight. “Hermione, maybe we should-” her mouth pressed against his again and he felt her tongue brush against his own.

Part of his brain drifted now to Luna. That had been a one time comforting experience between friends, perhaps that was what Hermione was after. But when did Luna and Hermione ever think about things the same way? Hermione wanted more from Harry then he could give her. He tried to say this, but her tongue kept getting in the way. Hermione’s hands began to drift to very un-Hermione-ish places; Harry seized her face and pushed against her as gently as he could while still making his point.

“Harry, please,” she said, trying to lean forward again.

“Hermione, I can’t.” What had he been thinking of telling her? He wasn’t getting enough blood to his brain. “What about Ron?” he asked after a moment.

“No, Harry,” she pleaded, “I’m trying to forget Ron.”

“This isn’t the way to do it,” Harry insisted. “You want more than I can give you, Hermione.” That was what he’d wanted to say!

“Harry, I need this,” her eyes started to water again and Harry looked away.

“Hermione, I can be here for you as a friend,” Harry’s mind was clearing as his blood began flowing to all the appropriate places again. “But I can’t give you anything more.”

“I need to stop hurting, Harry. Ron’s been nothing but cruel lately and I just need to be loved.” Her tears were flowing down her face now.

“I do love you, Hermione,” Harry pledged. “You’re like a sister to me.”

“Don’t say that!” She sounded surprisingly scandalized by this suggestion. “Please Harry,” she tried again, “you make me feel better.”

“Hermione, I want to help you feel better. I really do,” for she had given him an accusatory glance. “I’ll hold your hand, tell you why you’re wonderful, or lend you a shoulder to cry on, but I can’t do – that – with you.”

“You didn’t mind when I was sucking you off two years ago,” she replied acidly.

“Hermione, I don’t want to fight,” said Harry with a sigh.

“Why is it different now?” she pressed.

His mind responded with another image of Ginny, but he didn’t feel up to confiding that secret just yet. He cast around for some other reason.

“I’m different now,” he began wildly. “I-I’ve been through a lot, we all have, and…and I really have come to feel like you’re a sister to me,” he repeated. “I don’t want you to hurt,” he said softly, hugging her in what he sincerely hoped was a brotherly way. “If I knew a spell to take away the pain, I’d do it, but the best way to deal with it is to – just deal with it,” he finished lamely.

“There is a spell to take away the pain,” said Hermione darkly. She backed out of his embrace and looked into his eyes. “Obliviate me, Harry.” Her tone rang with a disturbing level of sincerity.

“What?” he asked, having no idea how to respond.

“Make me forget how much I care about him. Make forget that I l-” she stopped short. “I can’t say it.” And she pressed her face into his shoulder once more.

“I won’t,” Harry answered her. She beat her fist against him in a half-hearted way. “Talk to me, Hermione. You and Ron must have been closer than I knew for you to be feeling so badly. It could help if you tell someone how you’re feeling.”

“Ron made me s-so happy,” Hermione sobbed. “It’s like I’m empty now.”

“Hermione, don’t let Ron be your whole identity. You’re still one of the best people I’ve ever known whether you and Ron are a couple or not.”

To his surprise, Hermione pulled away from him again and began marching resolutely back toward the castle.

“Hermione,” he called out, following her.

“I’ve decided I don’t want to have this discussion anymore, Harry,” she said with finality.

“Hermione please,” said Harry, grasping her arm. “You can’t just ignore your emotions and bottle them up. Believe me, I’ve tried that.”

“I just need to be alone.” She wrenched her arm away from him angrily and continued on her way; he decided not to push her any further.


To Harry’s dismay, Ron’s new aggression did not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which made him still more aggressive, so that during the final Quidditch practice before Saturday’s match, he failed to save every single goal the Chasers aimed at him, but bellowed at everybody so much that he reduced Demelza Robins to tears.