The Refiner's Fire

Chapter 22 - Surprises and Shocks

Harry was leaving Charms class with Ron and Hermione when the pain hit, its severity making him fall to his knees. He groaned and leaned his scar against the stone wall.

"Harry! Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione cried.

"Do you need the nurse?" Ron asked.

Harry merely gasped, the waves of pain making him unable to speak. Finally he whispered, "No."

"No nurse?" Ron said quietly. He looked at his friend a moment longer, then stood and sent an Adfero to Dumbledore and Lupin. "Help will be here soon, mate," he assured Harry, helping him sit back against the wall.

The milling students stared as Harry rolled on his side and bent double, holding his head and groaning in pain. "What's wrong with him?" "Is he all right?" "Should we get someone for him?" they asked, worried frowns on their faces.

A band of Slytherins stalked by, Malfoy in their midst. "I see old Scarhead is having another headache," Malfoy sneered. "Good. He deserves it."

Ron looked at the blond boy, anger reddening his face. "Get stuffed, Malfoy," he snapped, then turned his attention back to Harry.

The crowd parted as Dumbledore came striding down the hall, followed soon thereafter by Lupin. "What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"He groaned and then just collapsed," Hermione said, her face creased in worry.

"Let's get him somewhere we can make him comfortable," Dumbledore said calmly.

Remus bent down next to Harry and murmured in his ear. "Is it your scar?" Harry nodded weakly. "Would you like me to carry you, or can you walk?"

Harry raised his head just enough to see his godfather. "Help. . . me up," he murmured, lifting one arm. Remus put his hand under Harry's arm and helped him as the boy got unsteadily to his feet. Then Remus and Ron supported Harry as they walked to an empty classroom nearby. When they sat him at a desk, he folded his arms on the desk top, and rested his head on his crossed wrists. Hermione ran off to bring back some water and a cloth to wash the sweat off his face.

"Can you tell me about it, Harry?" Dumbledore said, his voice warm and kind.

"Scar. Worst it's been in ages," Harry mumbled.

"Did you have a vision as well?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry lifted his head and smiled wanly at Hermione, who was trying to put a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. "Thanks. Feels good," he muttered, taking the cloth and holding it against his scar. After a moment, he glanced at Dumbledore. "Yes. I saw Voldemort. He was torturing someone. The screams. . . ." He shuddered at the memory. "It was a woman. He was yelling at her, and then he cursed her, and while she was still going through the curse, he started beating her with something - I don't know a walking stick, a broom or something, not a wand or his hand. He was in a horrible rage."

"Could you see who it was, or hear what he said?"

Harry sat quietly for a while, his eyes closed, both hands pressing the cloth against his scar, still in obvious pain. Finally, he answered. "He said, 'Not one of your schemes has worked. Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now.'"

"What did the woman say?"

"She said she had other plans, and they could be set into motion immediately. She has something as a backup in case the others don't work. She didn't say what they were."

"Did you recognize anyone, other than Voldemort?" said Dumbledore.

Harry sat up straighter, a look of concentration on his face. Then his face became angry.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said in concern. "Are you all right? What is it?"

Harry looked at the gathering of loving, worried faces around him. "It was Bellatrix Lestrange, I'm pretty certain of it. The one who was being tortured," he said, his face stony.

Remus joined the conversation. "Did you hear anything else about the plan? Who's involved, where it's happening, anything?"

"No. He did Cruciatus after Cruciatus on her between sessions of talking to her - I managed to break the connection while he was torturing her. That's the first time I haven't witnessed an entire scene, I think."

"How did you break the connection?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Better to ask why," Harry replied, a shadow of his cocky grin passing across his face. "Voldemort seemed to become aware he was being watched, just for a moment. He looked around the room, but that's when I pulled back out of the vision. I haven't been able to do that before. Dunno how I managed it this time."

"Have you been doing your Occlumency?" said Dumbledore.

"Yes. But as we were walking down the hall, my mind was wandering kind of aimlessly, the way it does when you get ready to go to sleep, I suppose. We'd just finished a big exam and I thought I did pretty well in it, so I was just. . .relaxed, I suppose. I guess he tortured her when I was too relaxed, so I caught the edges of his anger and saw what he was doing."

"How do you feel now, lad?" Remus asked, his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I still feel sick." He held the cloth out to Hermione mutely, and she dipped it in the bowl of cool water and wrung it out, then handed it back to him. He held it against his scar and closed his eyes again.

"You do look a bit green around the edges, mate," Ron said in concern. "Shall I take you to the hospital wing?"

"NO!" Harry snapped, his eyes instantly open, his posture rigid. "I do not want to spend one more second in hospital."

"OK, OK, calm down!" Ron said, his hands held in front of him in surrender. "I was just trying to help."

Harry's posture softened again. "I know. Sorry."

"'S'OK," Ron said with a crooked grin. "I'm used to you by now." Everyone was quiet for a while, unable to do more than just watch Harry fight his way through the pain. After several more minutes passed, he finally seemed to relax a little.

"Feeling better?" Remus asked, bending down to look the boy in the eye. "You're looking more Gryffindor than Slytherin now," he teased, "at least you're not as green."

Harry smiled. "That's a huge improvement then," he said. He straightened up and moved his body around experimentally. "I do feel a bit better."

"Harry," Dumbledore began, "you should probably go to bed and rest a while."

"I hate to miss any more classes," Harry said. "I'll be fine."

"We'll look after him," Hermione offered. "If he looks ill, we'll take him to Madam Pomfrey."

"All right then. If you feel up to it, go on to class, Harry. But do take care of yourself, all right? And if you remember anything else. . ."

"I'll tell you straight away," Harry replied.

"Good lad. Off you go, then," Dumbledore said, patting Harry on the shoulder as the boy stood up.

Harry wobbled a bit when he first started walking, but with Ron's strong hand under his arm, his balance improved. By the time they left the classroom and got to the corridor, Harry was moving under his own power again, if a bit slowly.

"You don't often have those during the day, do you?" Hermione asked quietly as they neared their next class.

"No. He was being particularly vicious this time. He was in an absolute rage. He seemed to think whatever she was doing should have worked, and it didn't, and it's not the first time she's failed him."

"That's more than you told Dumbledore."

"It just now came to me. The headache is fading, finally, and I can remember more bits of the vision. There's nothing else of great importance, though," he said with a shrug and followed Ron into the classroom and up to their seats. "I'll tell Dumbledore about it later."

* * * * *

"Harry, can you help me with this?" Ron asked plaintively. "I still can't change anything on my hand and it's been ages!"

"What are you trying to do?" Harry asked, sitting down in the squashy chair next to Ron's in the deserted Common Room late one evening.

"I'm still trying to turn my hand into a paw."

"What kind of paw?"

"A dog's paw."

"What kind of dog?" Harry asked reasonably.

"Oh. Um. . .I dunno."

"You have to have it completely worked out first, Ron. Breed, colour, all that," Harry explained patiently. "I thought you'd done all that research already."

"I did, but I keep changing my mind about what to do," Ron said miserably. "I just get so frustrated."

"What kind of dogs are you familiar with? Pick something you've seen and understand well."

Ron thought a moment. "Well. . .our neighbour used to have a big sable collie. You know, the ones with the long hair, the big thick ruff around their necks, long pointed noses? I think it's really called a 'rough collie' because of its long hair."

"Did you like the dog?"

"Yeah, he was brilliant. He herded the man's sheep sometimes, but mostly he was a babysitter kind of dog, protecting the children and so on. He never strayed from his master's side unless he was sent to do something. He was amazing."

"That sounds like a good dog, Ron. Why don't you try to be a collie?"

"OK." Ron stared hard at his left hand. Nothing happened. He tapped it with his wand. Still nothing.

"Suppose I give you a head start?" Harry suggested. "Maybe that will help."

"What do you mean?"

"Hold still," Harry said, pulling out his wand. "There. How's that feel?" Ron now had a beautiful, pristine white collie's paw where his left hand had been.

"AHHHH!" Ron shrieked.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked in concern. "Does it hurt?"

"Erm. . . no," Ron said, beet red with embarrassment. "It just scared me." He examined his paw in every direction. "Wow, it doesn't hurt a bit! It just feels like my fingers are short, that's all." He looked at it a while longer, tried stretching his toes, then curling them and making the claws stick out. He gingerly stroked the silky fur on the back of his paw. A big grin split his face. "Wicked," he said in delight.

"OK, now that you know how it feels, turn it back into your own hand," Harry suggested.

Ron winced at the idea. "By myself?"

"Yes, Ron, by yourself. You can do it!" Harry encouraged.

Ron tried several times, but his heart wasn't in it. "I can't."

"Fine. Enjoy living with a dog's paw then," Harry said with a chuckle and went up the stairs to their room, leaving a protesting Ron behind him.

In the middle of the night, Harry was rudely awakened when the curtains around his bed whipped open and a heavy weight thumped down on his bed. "I did it! I did it, Harry, look!" Ron cried in delight. "Look!" He held up his own long-fingered, freckled hand with its familiar sprinkling of ginger hairs on the knuckles. "I did it!"

"I knew you could," Harry said with a smile, then rolled over to go back to sleep.

"No, wait! How do I make it a dog's paw again?" Ron asked eagerly, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and flipping him onto his back again.

"Do just what you did to make it your hand, only think about it being a paw," Harry mumbled, trying to get back to the nice dream he'd been having.

Ron didn't move, but sat there concentrating. "Nothing. It's not working. What am I doing wrong?"

"Keeping me awake," Harry grumbled.

"Harry, please! I almost had it!"

Reluctantly, Harry sat up, plumped his pillows behind him, and reached for his glasses. "Pull the curtains closed," he told Ron with a sigh. Harry picked up his wand and said "Lumos." The wand light brightened the area inside his bed curtains so the boys could see what they were doing. "All right. Start very very small. Try to turn your fingernails into collie's claws. Just that."

Ron twisted his face into knots, he was concentrating so hard, but nothing happened.

"You're trying too hard. Relax," Harry advised.

"How can I concentrate and relax at the same time?"

"The same way you fly - you fly without thinking about how you fly, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but flying's natural."

"No, it isn't," Harry replied. "At some point, maybe when you were little, you had to learn how."

"You were a natural," Ron protested.

"I still had to learn how to manage the broom, even though flying came easily to me. The Animagus transformation seems to come easily to me, too, but I still had to learn how to focus clearly, to let the magic flow like. . .," Harry paused, searching for the right imagery, "like water. If you try as hard as you are right now, you'll block the magic."

"Really? I never heard that."

"That's because I just made it up. That flowing feeling works for me, anyway. Try relaxing. Take a deep breath and hold it." He watched while Ron took a huge breath and held it, his eyes bugging out in question at Harry. "Now blow it out hard." Ron blew out. "Do you feel more relaxed?"

"Yeah, a bit," Ron replied, his face amazed.

"Do it again," Harry advised.

Ron complied.

"Now try to turn your hand into a paw, or your fingernails into claws - whatever feels like it might be easiest."

Ron started to screw up his face in concentration again.

Harry reached out and touched him on the arm. "No, no, no. You're trying too hard again. Tell you what. Try turning some other part of yourself into part of a collie. How about your hair? It's almost the colour of a sable collie. Or try giving yourself a collie's ruff. That's just like growing a beard, in a way. You can do that, can't you?"

"Not on command, the way you can," Ron said with a grin. His red-gold beard was still so light, he rarely had to shave, and even when he let it grow, it barely showed on his face. It was a source of many jokes between them that Harry could look like a Greek sailor in minutes if he didn't control his beard's growth, while Ron could have a full beard and nobody would notice the difference.

"Give it a go, then," Harry encouraged. "Deep breath, blow it out, that's it. Do it again. Now think of the collie's ruff." He watched as Ron tried to do the transformation. Nothing happened.

"Anything?" Ron asked hopefully, leaning his head forward and moving his shaggy red hair so Harry could inspect his neck.

"I think maybe a little back there," Harry lied encouragingly.

"Really?" Ron felt around on his neck hopefully.

"Maybe. Have another go."

After eleven tries, Ron was getting frustrated again, but with the next try, suddenly there was a collie's ruff around his neck. "Look, I did it! I did it!" he shouted with glee, bouncing on Harry's bed.

"Yes, you did!" Harry laughed, applauding his friend's achievement.

"Whassup?" Seamus asked sleepily.

"Ron's managed a collie's ruff," Harry announced to the other boys whom Ron's shout had also awakened. Harry threw his bed curtains open wide so they could see. "Go on, then. Show them!" He laughed as Ron strutted proudly around the room, blowing heartily at the long white hair that kept trying to get in his mouth or tickle his nose.

"Wow!" "Brilliant, Ron!" "How'd you do that?" the other boys asked.

"Harry coached me a bit," Ron conceded.

"Don't let him fool you. He did that himself," Harry said proudly. "I just told him to relax and stop concentrating so hard on changing his hand. Maybe you lot should do the same. Try to change some other part and don't try so hard. Focusing the magic comes from pure concentration. Concentrating the way we normally do brings out our fears and worries and makes us wonder if we can do it, and blocks the magic."

"How do you know that?" Dean asked.

"I dunno. It's something I made up, but it's based on my experience. If I try too hard, I can't do what I'm trying to do. If I relax properly and then focus, the magic comes together better," he said with a shrug. "It's like having a soft focus on your eyes when you're flying rather than flying with tunnel vision."

"You've talked about that in Quidditch practice," Seamus piped up.

"Yeah. With soft focus, you have wider peripheral vision than you do if you concentrate on what's in front of you too hard. With soft focus, you ride your broom by feel, by instinct, rather than thinking about it. It's the same with magic, I think. You can concentrate on what's in front of you so hard that you can't get it done, but if you use soft focus, you can concentrate more. . .purely, maybe, and the magic becomes instinctive. I dunno. Works for me, anyway." He looked up at Ron, who was preening in front of the mirror. "Are you going to sleep in that, or get rid of it before you go to bed?"

"I dunno. I'd like to run over and show Hermione. . ."

"It's the middle of the night, Ron. She's asleep," Harry reminded him.

"Oh. Right," Ron answered distractedly. "D'you suppose I can do this again?" he said nervously.

"Get rid of it and see," Harry suggested.

Ron sighed. "I suppose you're right," he said, then stared at his ruff and focused his eyes a moment. The ruff disappeared. "I did it! I did it!"

"Yay! Now put it back!" Harry encouraged.

"You're a slave driver, you are," Ron said, laughing.

"If you don't do it now, you'll worry all night about being able to do it again. Go on, then," Harry said, stifling a yawn.

Ron got that look of focus again and the ruff reappeared. "Look! There it is!"

"That's great, Ron, really! Now get rid of it and go to sleep. You can challenge Nearly Headless Nick to a ruff comparison tomorrow if you want," Harry laughed, taking off his glasses, laying his pillows flat and getting ready to pull his curtains round his bed.

"Oh, all right," Ron agreed reluctantly. After a moment, the ruff disappeared, and Ron moved to his bed, bouncing on the bed for a while before he could settle down to sleep. "Harry?" he said quietly after the other boys had relaxed again.

"Mmm?" Harry replied sleepily.

"Thanks, mate. I mean it."

"That's OK. Promise me your collie won't chase my cat, OK?" Harry yawned hugely.

"You've got it!" Ron said, chuckling as he lay down to sleep.

* * * * *

"You did WHAT?!" Hermione said in amazed disbelief over breakfast the next morning.

"Yup. Watch!" Ron said proudly, and then produced his collie's ruff.

"Oy, Weasley!" Seamus called teasingly. "You're getting dog hair in the porridge!" Everyone laughed.

"Ron, that's amazing!" Hermione said, her face awestruck. "However did you manage it?"

"Harry coached me a bit," he said modestly, "and then I finally got the hang of it."

"Harry," Hermione said, turning an earnest face to him, "you've coached us on this loads of times. What did you do differently this time?"

"I dunno. I talked about soft focus, as I do with the Quidditch team in practice, and suggested he stopped trying to do his paw and try some other part. I think that was about it," Harry said with a shrug. "I guess Ron was just ready to do it."

"I've BEEN ready to do it and still can't!" she cried in frustration. "Oh, Harry, please, please will you work with me on this some more? Please?"

Harry laughed, leaning away from her intent face. "OK, OK, of course I'll help you! Finish your breakfast and we can talk about it."

"Tell me now!" she insisted, taking another dainty bite of her eggs.

"Tell me too," Ginny said, leaning across Harry to grab the platter of bacon.

"I'd be happy to pass that to you, you know," he said, laughing as he lifted the platter high above her head, out of her reach. "Would you like some bacon, m'lady?"

She sat back and glared at him, then dissolved into laughter, then put her hands together as if she were begging. "Oh, please, Mr. Potter sir, would you be ever so kind as to pass me the platter of bacon, good sir?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes and flirting outrageously.

"Here you go, dear lady," he said, sketching a small bow and briskly laying the platter across his forearm as if he were a waiter serving her.

"You two," Hermione giggled. "You're so silly."

"We live for silliness, don't we, Gin?" Harry said, smiling down at her.

"Yes. And since Fred and George aren't here to supply it, we have to make do ourselves." Ginny preened elegantly, doing her best to act like a posh lady, then rested her head on Harry's shoulder and made silly faces at him. He tweaked her nose gently, giving her a warm smile as he did so, and then pushed his plate away.

"All right, Hermione, you want to talk about this transformation," Harry began. Suddenly he was surrounded by Gryffindors, all listening raptly. "Whoa, what's up?"

"We heard about Ron's breakthrough," Katie Bell said. "We want to learn how, too."

"I don't know if it will work for everyone," Harry protested. "I'll tell you what I told him, but no guarantees, OK?"

There was general agreement in the group.

"Right. I'll explain it to Hermione, and you lot just follow along as best you can then, OK?" He glanced around, seeing nods everywhere. "Hermione, what kind of animal did you choose?"

"A cat."

"Any particular kind or colour of cat?"

"A ginger cat like Crookshanks," she answered promptly.

"I hope yours will have a prettier face," Ron muttered darkly.

"I heard that!" she snapped. "Crookshanks is gorgeous!"

"If you say so," Ron replied with a dramatic sigh.

"Pay attention, OK? We all have to get to class soon, so we don't have much time," Harry reminded them. "Right. It's good that you've picked a particular kind and colour of animal to change into. I think that kind of detail helps a lot. What have you been doing to try to transform?"

"I've followed the steps we got from Professor McGonagall and the book. I've been working on my left hand. I can make a paw just fine, I just can't get beyond it."

"All right, then. Think of some other part of the cat, and reproduce that. Try a back foot, perhaps, or the tail," Harry suggested. "Have a go, then."

"With everyone watching?" she said nervously.

"You can do it. Focus on my voice, and on the transformation you have in mind," Harry replied. He explained his idea about "soft focus" and about relaxed concentration, talking her through it step by step as he had done with Ron. Hermione tried her best, but nothing happened. "Maybe the crowd is putting you off," Harry said reassuringly. "You'll get it. Ron didn't get it his first try either, nor did I."

"Oh, I can't believe I can't do this!" she fussed.

"Maybe your worrying about it is blocking your magic. Try to feel your magic flowing like water. It should. . .I dunno. . .sing in your veins when it's truly focused and at its most powerful. At least, that's how it feels for me."

Hermione looked at Harry, crushed. She knew about his power being magnified by The Refiner's Fire, even if most of the rest of the world did not. She had never felt her magic "flowing like water" or "singing" in her veins. She didn't think she ever would. Tears filled her eyes at the thought.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, surprised to see her eyes full of tears.

"I. . .I've never felt that, not like you said," Hermione replied uncertainly. "Could it be because I'm Muggle-born?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. He looked around at the rest of the gathered Gryffindors. "Do any of you know what I'm talking about? Do you feel magic that way?" They all shook their heads.

"I've never thought about it that way, Harry," Neville said earnestly. "I'll pay attention to how it feels when I'm doing spells and see what it feels like. Now you have me interested. Maybe I could improve my spell work if I felt the magic that way." Many heads around them nodded in agreement.

"Well, it works for me. Maybe magic feels different for each wizard or witch, I don't know. Once you've all had some time to think about it and see how it feels to you, let me know, all right? Now I'm interested too," he said with a smile. He looked at his watch. "We'd better go or we'll all be late for class." The other Gryffindors called cheery "thank yous" to him and left, grabbing books, bags and cloaks as they headed for the doors.

Harry turned back to Hermione. "Don't let it get you down. Try a different animal, perhaps. Maybe that will be easier for you."

"But I can already do a cat's paw," she protested.

"That doesn't mean some other kind of animal might not be easier for you," Harry said reasonably. "Viktor Krum turned his head into a shark's head for the Second Task, but I doubt his Animagus form is a shark, if he can do the Animagus transformation."

"He can't. I asked him," Hermione said.

"Are you still writing to him?" Ron asked, shocked.

"Yes," she replied snippily, gathering her things to leave for class.

"Why?" Ron asked, obviously hurt.

"He's a friend, Ron. Why can't you understand that?" she snapped. Suddenly, it seemed as if a dam burst. "If you can't grow up, then just leave me alone!" she cried, and then stormed off to class ahead of the boys.

"What's up with her?" Ron asked Harry, his face hurt and bewildered.

"I don't think she's used to being frustrated about school work," Harry said with a shrug. "And you're still jealous of Viktor. You know that annoys her."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Dunno. Ginny's still friends with all the boys she went out with before, but I don't feel jealous of them when she talks to them," Harry said mildly.

"It doesn't bother you at all that she probably snogged them? That she may still have feelings for them?" Ron was aghast.

A warm smile suffused Harry's face. "It doesn't bother me. I know how she feels about me." Just then, Ginny came back from the doors where she'd been talking to her classmates and wriggled under Harry's arm. Harry acted as if he weren't going to let her in his arms, but she, of course, was having none of that. It was a regular game for them.

"Did I just hear my name mentioned?" she asked brightly.

"Yeah. I was just saying how pretty you look this morning," Harry said, leaning down to kiss her on the nose.

"That's not what you were saying. That I would've heard!" she said with a giggle.

"He was saying he's not jealous when you talk to your old boyfriends," Ron said glumly, "because he knows how you feel about him."

Ginny hugged Harry tightly, a delighted smile on her face. "Do you, now?" she teased.

"Yeah, I think I've got the gist of it," he said with his crooked grin.

"Ron, why does that bother you?" Ginny asked her brother. "You look terrible. And why were you two talking about that anyway?"

"Hermione said she's still writing to Viktor," Ron grumbled.

"Oh. And that upsets you?" Ginny asked, still a bit confused.

"Yeah. And I asked Harry if it would concern him, and he said no, and the rest of the conversation you heard, I think," Ron snapped.

"C'mon, we need to go to class," Harry said, picking up his bag and wrapping his other arm around Ginny. Ginny grabbed Ron's free arm and dragged him along.

"Come on, big brother. You'll be fine. She's just in a snit for some reason. Don't let it worry you," Ginny said comfortingly.

"But Ginny - she told me to grow up or leave her alone," he protested, his hurt feelings plainly showing.

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. "I don't know what's got into her. Shall I talk to her?"

"No. Thanks anyway. She said to leave her alone, so I'll just do what she wants and leave her alone until she's ready to talk to me again," he said miserably.

* * * * *

Hermione didn't speak to Ron for the rest of that day, or for several days thereafter. Harry finally decided enough was enough and went to talk to her. He found her alone in an unused classroom late one afternoon, thanks to the Marauder's Map.

"Hey," he said with a smile when he entered the room. "What are you doing in here?"

"Trying to be alone," she growled.

"I'm worried about you, Hermione. I came looking for you, to see if there's anything I can do to help."

"Nobody can help," she said, sniffling.

"Are you crying?" he said, aghast.

"Sometimes."

"What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong? My life is so screwed up." She paced back and forth, back and forth, walking forcefully, muttering under her breath, angrily waving her wand at times, sparks flying here and there as she did so, wiping tears away at other times.

"How is your life screwed up? You're top of the class, you're beautiful, your boyfriend loves you. . ."

"Some boyfriend. I notice he didn't come looking for me."

"I'm the one with the map. And you told him to leave you alone, remember? He's doing what you asked, and it's killing him," Harry chided her gently. "What's up with you and Ron, anyway?"

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked haughtily.

"Why are you not speaking to him? He's really hurt," Harry said, trying to suss out her mood.

"He's such a child sometimes," she grumbled.

"Do you mean because he's jealous of your writing Viktor?"

"That and loads of other things," she retorted.

Harry stood looking at his best friend for a while in silence. Then he said, very carefully, "Have your feelings changed toward him?"

Her head snapped up and she stared at him. Her expression was similar to that of a deer caught in headlights, completely startled and frozen in time. She gulped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't you care about him anymore?"

"Of course I care about him," she snapped.

"You've got a funny way of showing it," Harry commented mildly.

"Fat lot you know."

"Actually, I am learning a lot about relationships," he mused. "One of the things that seem to be pretty important is communication. If you have complaints or some kind of problem involving Ron, it's not fair to make him try to guess what it is and how to fix it."

Hermione burst into tears. Harry wasn't sure what to do. Crying girls always threw him. She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking, sounding as if her heart would break. Finally, he could bear it no longer and pulled her into his arms. "What's wrong, Hermione? Can I help?"

She shook her head, burying her face in his shoulder. "There's nothing anyone can do," she wailed.

"What is it?" He was getting scared now. This was not the Hermione he'd known and been best friends with for the last several years.

"I. . .I . . .I can't."

"Is. . .is there someone else?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded mutely.

"Do you love him?"

"More than he'll ever know," she said, crying harder.

"Does he love you?"

"Yes, but not that way," she sobbed. "H-h-h-he has someone else he cares for."

"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say. He stroked her back and her hair, hoping that would comfort her. When it didn't seem to be helping, he just held her, knowing she'd have to stop crying sometime. After a while, her tears abated and she just rested in his arms.

"You feel so good, Harry," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'll bet you say that to all your best friends," he teased, tucking her head comfortably under his chin.

She pulled back and looked up at him seriously. "Only you." She sniffled, then buried her face in his shoulder again. "Thank you for this," she murmured.

"Any time."

More time passed and they just held each other. Hermione finally spoke. "Harry?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Would you. . .would you do me a favour?"

"Of course! Anything. You know that," he said, pushing her away enough that he could see her face, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. "What is it?"

"I. . .I need to know something."

"What?"

"Um. . .would. . .would you. . .kiss me?"

Harry was shocked. "What? Why?"

"I need to know what it feels like - I can't explain it. Oh never mind, it's not fair to ask you to do that," she said, waving her hand dismissively and pulling out of his arms.

"Wait - I did promise," he said. Harry Potter always kept his word, a trait that had landed him in trouble more than once. "This would be just between us, right?"

"Oh, absolutely!" she replied, hope lighting her eyes.

"Just a kiss?"

"Not a peck. A real, serious kiss - like you give Ginny," she said.

"Are you wondering if Ron's a good kisser or not?" Harry was very confused.

"No, not exactly. I . . .I just need to know something, and this is only way I can think of to do it." She seemed very nervous for some reason. "Of course, if you don't find me appealing and don't want to. . ."

"That's not the problem. You know I think you're very pretty, right? I've told you often enough," he said, studying her face to see if she was serious. He'd never seen her more serious about something in his life. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And I won't tell Ginny or anyone else."

"Promise?"

"Best friends' promise," she assured him.

"And you don't have on any weird lipstick or anything that can make me sick? You're not under Imperius?" He looked at her eyes, but they were Hermione's bright, intelligent eyes, not the glazed look of someone under the Imperius curse. Something was flickering behind those eyes, but he thought it was probably just nervousness and the fragile emotional state she'd been in for days now.

She shook her head. "And I know you want a password, something only you and I know. Let's see. You and I took Norbert to the Astronomy Tower for Charlie Weasley to take to Rumania that time. And we used the Time-Turner to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak. What else?" she said, trying to think.

"The Norbert thing was enough. You, Ron, Hagrid and I are the only ones who know about that, other than Charlie and his friends, and I doubt they'd tell anyone here about that," he replied. He rubbed his thumb across her lips, which came up dry. No lipstick. She seemed to be his own best friend, Hermione, who, for some inexplicable reason wanted him to kiss her. OK, well, he had promised, and he did his best to keep his promises. "All right, then." He cupped her face in his hand and leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was soft and gentle, and he started to pull back after it, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for more.

"I said a real kiss," she insisted.

"OK," he chuckled, and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. He kissed her softly again, one, two, three times, and then felt her tongue brush his lips. "She wasn't kidding - she wants some serious snogging," he thought as he opened his mouth and complied.

After a moment, she pulled back and waved her wand at the door, saying "Colloportus." She'd locked them in, so nobody could interrupt them.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her in question. She just looked at him oddly. Her eyes were strangely focused, something almost. . .wavering. . .concentrated. . .something. . . behind them. He couldn't work it out. He couldn't understand her today. This was a very peculiar situation, but she really was Hermione, he was certain of it. He just wished he knew what she was trying to sort out by kissing him. Whatever. He, like any other healthy sixteen-year-old boy, was always interested in having a good time, so he thought he could enjoy kissing her as much as she wanted, and no harm could come of it. She's my best friend, after all, and she asked me to do her this favour, he thought, telling himself he was doing the right thing. She knows how I feel about Ginny, and she'll keep this incident a secret, so it's OK - isn't it? What's a little snog among friends, anyway? No harm in that. Is there? But then she started moulding her body to his, pressing against him, rubbing against him, moaning into his mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair, digging her nails into his scalp before grabbing his hair roughly and pulling him even closer, inspecting every one of his back teeth quite thoroughly with her tongue. Her hands slid down his back as if trying to feel the connections of each and every muscle, then swiftly moved under his sweater and glided up his back.

Harry was enjoying the feeling of her hands on his skin, but he thought she was going too far, so he started gently pulling away from her, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Suddenly, she pressed her nails into him, scratching him to the point of pain as she pushed him off-balance, making him fall onto the teacher's desk. Climbing on top of him, Hermione tore at his sweater, shoving it up, running her hands roughly over the skin of his chest and belly. By this time, Harry was trying to get away from her without hurting her and finally managed to stand up, but she followed him, doing her best to kiss his chest. She was moving very quickly, so much so that Harry was still working through his initial shock at her attack when she suddenly ran her hands over his buttocks and squeezed them hard, then started trying to touch him in places nobody but him had touched since he'd been in nappies. At this point, he pushed her away roughly, staring at her in shock. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

She was panting. "I had to see. I had to know," she said. Her eyes were wild, her face lustful. She seemed to be gathering herself up to jump on him again.

"Had to see or know what?" He was so upset, his voice cracked. He pushed his sweater back into place, rubbed at the sore spots on his back, scalp and buttocks where she'd dug her nails in, and backed away from her quickly.

"If I really felt the way I thought I did," she replied, still looking at him in that bizarre way.

He hesitated a long moment before asking his next question, standing away from her, his head tilted, studying that face he thought he knew so well. "And. . .and what way is that?" he said, dreading the answer.

Her face softened and she looked like the Hermione he knew again. "I love you, Harry," she said simply, her heart in her eyes.