Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Lesson Five – Handling Emotional Side-Effects

When Harry and Hermione reluctantly returned to the common room, Ron was nowhere in sight, which could mean only two things – Ron hadn’t returned to Gryffindor Tower, or Ron was waiting upstairs for Harry, presumably to kill him in his sleep.

Harry knew that with his luck, it would be the latter…and it was. Ron, who had been kicking at random things, rounded on him the moment he walked in. Thank the gods that at least the rest of the sixth year boys were downstairs; he didn’t think he could handle doing this in front of them.

“How could you, Harry? You – you had to know that I fancied her! And you didn’t even have the decency to tell me you were together?”

“Ron, I –”

“No!” he cried, turning redder than Harry had ever seen him before. Harry was beginning to genuinely worry that Ron would punch him. “No, don’t you dare make excuses! The two of you have been lying to me, right to my face!”

“Ron, we –”

“If you’d only told me you’d gotten together straight away, I – well, I wouldn’t have liked it, but –”

“Ron, will you bloody listen for a moment?” Harry cut in exasperated.

“Just what could you possibly have to say?”

“We’re not – we’re not together, Ron,” Harry said, rather hating the sound of the words. “She was teaching me how to kiss.”

Ron spent at least two seconds staring at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “That has got to be the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard – and I can’t believe you’re still trying to cover this up! Harry, I saw you two together, and you looked awfully bloody cozy! I know what a couple looks like, and you looked like it!”

“She was just teaching me the importance of cuddling afterward,” Harry said helplessly as Ron let out a snort of laughter.

“Yeah, right. You know what, Harry? Screw you. I thought our friendship meant more to you than this – I thought you’d at least have the decency to tell me the truth!” He turned his back on Harry, moving toward his bed. “I’ve had enough. I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother trying to lie your way out of this anymore. I don’t want to hear it.”

With that, Ron plopped down on his bed and drew the curtains with an angry flourish, leaving Harry staring on in shock.

~

The next morning, Harry woke to find Ron’s bed empty already – a rare occasion indeed. To be quite truthful, Harry was relieved. As guilty as he felt, he didn’t particularly enjoying being at the brunt of Ron’s wrath. Moreover, Harry was somewhat afraid of what he might say to Ron, given another go at their argument – a very substantial part of him was quite angry and dying to get out. Ron seemed to think he was somehow entitled to Hermione, and all because he fancied her first. Never mind what Hermione wanted or that he surely felt more for her than Ron ever would – no, Ron had gotten there first. Who could argue with that logic?

Just where does he get off, thinking like that? Nowhere near here, that’s for sure. Jealous, possessive git…

Still fuming slightly, Harry dressed, grabbed his bag, and headed out.

He wasn’t even halfway down the stairs before he heard the voices of his two best friends raised in a heated argument.

Oh, joy. Just what I wanted to wake up to.

Harry paused near the bottom of the stairs, just out of sight, to listen.

“Ron, it’s the truth! I was just teaching Harry.”

“Did you two come up with that stupid story after I left last night?”

Harry could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “Oh, honestly, Ron, if we were going to lie to you, I could come up with something better than that.”

“Then why lie in the first place?”

“Oh, because you would have reacted so well to the idea of Harry and I kissing. Really, Ron, you know as well as I do that you would have had a fit. We thought it would be better not to tell you – once the lessons were over, nothing would have changed. We figured it would just be easier on everyone.”

“But – but why Harry?”

“…Why Harry? Because he’s my best friend, and he needed my help! Would you prefer it if I went around the school giving lessons to any random bloke that fancied a snog? Or is the real question here, ‘Why not me?’ That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not being lied to that you’re upset about, it’s what I was doing with Harry. You’re jealous.”

“I am not!”

Harry heard the eyes roll again. “Very mature, Ron. We both know the problem is your jealousy. And you know what? You have no right to be jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous of – Harry and I are not a couple – and neither are we by the way! Where do you get off deciding whom I kiss? I’m not your property, Ron, and never will be. You’ll do well to remember that!”

Harry heard Hermione stomp away, followed by a loud opening and closing of the portrait hole. He crept the rest of the way down the stairs to find Ron staring dumbstruck at the entryway.

When Ron finally moved and realized Harry was watching him, he gathered his things in a huff and charged out the portrait hole after Hermione, leaving Harry feeling very, very alone.

~

Breakfast was a tense affair, with Ron on one end of the Gryffindor table, blood boiling, and Hermione at the other, glaring daggers at everyone – Ron especially. Harry didn’t particularly enjoy being around either of them when they were angry, but sitting in the middle of the table, caught in the crossfire, seemed like a dangerous place to be.

Reluctantly, he placed himself across from Hermione. At least she wasn’t angry with him. But it was a bit painful, having to sit and listen to her rant – Ron’s being so irrational, there’s nothing at all for him to be jealous of, nothing between us at all – I don’t see what he’s so upset about!

Harry poked around at his bangers and mash, severely disheartened. To listen to Hermione, one would assume that she wasn’t interested in any sort of relationship with him that involved any kissing outside the educational arena. …She wasn’t interested in him at all. Was it because of Ron? Did she fancy him instead? Or was he simply so repulsive that she didn’t want anything to do with him?

But she’d seemed to enjoy the things they’d done. Surely she couldn’t if she found him physically repulsive. Maybe she was attracted to him but could never love him that way.

Or maybe she was just randy and I was conveniently in need of instruction. Harry took a vicious stab at his eggs, sending a few flying off the edge of the table.

Or perhaps it wasn’t like that at all…perhaps she just didn’t want to be involved with someone like him. Someone that went running into danger and got his loved ones killed…someone who might become a murderer…

Someone who might die.

His appetite suddenly became non-existent. Hermione would probably never feel for him what he felt for her…he might go his entire life, however short or unbearably long that was, without her…

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up. If he had to look in her eyes right now, she’d probably see everything.

“Are you going to be all right? I know how much you hate fighting with Ron, but he’ll come around soon enough.”

“Yeah,” he croaked. Dear Merlin, I can’t believe I’m near tears over this. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Harry, I was wondering…do you still want to do the lessons? Now that Ron knows?”

Harry couldn’t help looking up at her then, taking in her teeth gnawing anxiously at her bottom lip and her wide brown eyes. He wanted to leap across the table and continue their lessons right then and there. Instead, he replied, “I don’t know. You reckon we should stop?”

“Well, I don’t see any real reason to stop. Ron’s going to have to get used to the idea whether we continue or not. If you still want my help, I’m still offering it.”

Harry considered the situation. She didn’t want to stop. Perhaps that meant that she wanted at least some part of him, and maybe…maybe from there, she could begin to feel more, even if she didn’t now…

He nodded to her. “All right. We’ll continue.”

She smiled. Good sign.

“All right, then. Let’s see…I have prefect duties tomorrow night, but I’m free Thursday. Eight o’clock?”

“Okay,” Harry said, feeling his appetite return just a little bit. There was only one thing that could make it come back completely, and he was afraid to ask...but he desperately wanted to know.

“Hermione,” he said in a low voice, glancing down the table to see if Ron was watching. Predictably, he was, but he looked away immediately upon getting caught in the act. “You – you don’t fancy Ron, do you?”

She looked like she was about to laugh, but she covered it well. “Oh – no, I don’t. I mean, he’s a good friend, but…well, he’s not really my type, is he? I don’t think we’re very compatible at all. No…I don’t fancy him. Whatever would give you that idea, anyway?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I mean, he obviously fancies you…I just…wondered, that’s all.”

Hermione shook her head. “No…I’m afraid I don’t feel the same way. I feel terrible about it, but I can’t be with him or put my life on hold just because I feel sorry for him, you know? He’ll just…he’ll have to move on and find someone better suited for him.”

Harry nodded, stopping his lips from turning up in a smile. He felt a bit less guilty for fancying Hermione now, knowing that Ron had no real claim on her…and his righteous indignation directed at Ron was feeling more and more righteous by the moment.

~

Ron avoided him and Hermione for the rest of the day, but when Harry finally went up to bed, Ron was waiting for him once more.

“You fancy her, don’t you?” the redhead said without preamble.

“Who are you talking about, Ron?” Harry didn’t think it sounded very convincing. Evidently, Ron didn’t either.

“I could see the way you were looking at her when I was watching you this morning. You fancy her, don’t you?”

Harry sat down on his bed and braced himself for the interrogation. “…All right, yes. I do.”

“How long?” Ron said, pacing in front of him.

“I dunno…a month or two, I guess.”

“Why? Why, damn it, why her? You’re the famous Harry Potter – you could have any girl in the bloody school! Why her?”

Harry could have listed a million reasons, but one seemed to sum them all up at the moment. “Because…she’s the only girl in the school who looks at me and doesn’t see ‘the famous Harry Potter.’ She’s…she’s different, Ron. She’s special.”

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron sighed as he sat heavily on his bed. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be…”

“Yeah? How was it supposed to be, then?” Harry asked. His anger was quickly sapping away all the pity he’d felt for Ron before.

“It was supposed to be me and her, and…I don’t know, you and Ginny. It wasn’t…she was supposed to be the one thing that I had that I didn’t have to share with you.”

“So that’s what this is about,” Harry snapped, jumping up and beginning to pace the room as Ron had done. “It’s not about her; it’s about me, isn’t it? I can’t believe you’re still on about that! God, Ron…you got the prefect badge. You won the Quidditch cup last year. Wasn’t that exactly what you saw in the Mirror of Erised? You got everything you ever wanted, and that still wasn’t enough for you, was it? And all along, you had the only thing that I’d ever wanted – you knew your parents, you’ve had them your entire life – you had brothers and a sister…you had a family that cared. You had birthday parties and real Christmas presents and there was someone around to teach you how to ride a broom and see you get your Hogwarts letter! But you…you want fame and money and you don’t seem to realize that none of that matters, not when a new group of people hates you every other week for it and everyone sees you for what you’ve done instead of who you are!”

Harry was vindictively pleased to see the chastened expression on Ron’s face.

“And now,” he continued, “now you want her, just to get back at me – and for what? What did I ever do? I didn’t want to be famous…I didn’t want to have to fight Voldemort, and I certainly didn’t want him to kill my parents. I just wanted to come to school and play Quidditch and maybe find someone who would see me and not my stupid bloody scar – and I did. I don’t…I don’t see why I should feel guilty about that. I didn’t take anything from you. She was never yours.”

Ron looked up at him, his face having changed from a startling red to a ghostly white. “Has – has she told you – she…” He cut off, frowning. “She doesn’t fancy me back, does she?”

Harry shook his head slowly as he began to feel sorry for Ron again. “I – I’m sorry. She reckons you’re not compatible or something – and she might have a point, you know. You fight over…well, everything.”

“Yeah…I guess she’s right. Again,” Ron muttered as his shoulders sagged with defeat. “I never could figure out what I liked so much about her, you know…I just…I always thought for some reason that we were supposed to be together. I still can’t get rid of that feeling. I always thought she felt the same way…”

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling hollow after his outburst. “I’m sorry, mate. I wasn’t trying to steal her away from you or anything…it just…happened. And just because I like her doesn’t mean she feels the same way. I could be in the same boat as you.”

Ron nodded slowly, and looked up with a grin. “I guess we’re both a pathetic couple of gits, then.”

Harry smiled back, relieved to have this mess sorted out – with Ron, at least. “Yeah. I reckon we are.”

To be continued