Clichés, Kisses and Killing

Clichés, Kisses, and Killing.

Chapter One: Friends Forever?

Is it all?

Or nothing at all?

There's nowhere left to fall

When you reach the bottom

It's now or never

Is it all?

Or are we just friends?

'All Or Nothing' - O-Town.

Harry stirred sleepily and shifted under his covers slightly. He moved his head a little and immediately wished he hadn't bothered. His head started to throb slightly, not as much as it had the last time he had got drunk, but he still wished he hadn't helped Seamus finish that bottle of Ogden's Fire whiskey, his girlfriend hadn't just dumped him for a twenty-four-year-old dragon tamer after all. Harry tried to stay as still as possible and shut his eyes, remembering last night. It had been a party to celebrate Ginny's seventeenth birthday, but had been slightly marred by Ron's illness the day before. He had turned up for an hour earlier in the evening but had had to leave when he felt unwell, on Madam Pomfrey's orders. Harry remembered Ron and Hermione's stilted conversation. They had both been trying as hard as they could for Ginny, who was still upset about their breakup, which had occurred two weeks previously. He remembered Seamus moping in a corner and eyeing up Ginny and her friends, then whinging over his girlfriend's sudden decision. Suddenly something else came back to him. And he really wished it hadn't. He remembered curls pouring over his face, someone whispering in his ear, his hands travelling over someone's naked body as they-. Oh, shit, he thought viciously, whom in the name of hell did I sleep with last night? He racked his brains to think of who had been wearing their hair in curls last night. Well, Parvati was, but she was with that Slytherin guy. Then there was Lavender Brown. Harry thought hard. It can't have been Lavender, he reasoned, she was blathering on about the stupid bloody dragon-tamer all evening, she wouldn't then go and jump into bed with you, would she? Bloody hell! Why must curls be so damned fashionable! Anyway, then there was that little blond friend of Ginny's, Tulibelle, but she had been with Gin-. Oh, buggering hell, he said, his own thoughts shocking him, Ginny! She had been wearing her hair in those beautiful corkscrew curls that her friends had fixed. He tried to remember what dress his mystery lady had been wearing, but he couldn't. All that he was beginning to remember was actually having sex with the girl, and he was shocked that he hadn't remembered it before because it was mind-blowing. Not just the sex, but also the way she had held him, and the way he had reassured her as they had started. His mouth curved into an affectionate smile at the way she had almost cried, and then a picture in his mind shocked him and his leg jolted. His foot went straight into another leg. He froze.

The other person moved and his eyes widened in shock as he tried to get over the picture he had seen in his mind. Well, he knew one thing now anyway. The girl most definitely was not Ginny Weasley, because Ginny Weasley did not have brown hair. That was what he had seen, brown curls cascading over a face, a face he knew but could not place. Was it Lavender? He was still frozen as the girl started to shift about and then she froze as her foot touched his. He swallowed and it was painfully loud in the silence. It was almost laughable to Harry. He had just spent agonizing minutes trying to remember whom it was he had taken to bed, and all he had had to do was turn over and look. But now he didn't dare, and he was frightened to move. He closed his eyes and prayed to God it wasn't Ginny, despite the fact that he knew she didn't have brown hair. He was just praying that he wasn't seeing something else in his mind, because if he had just slept with Ginny while she was drunk, he'd have all six Weasley brothers on his tail. His mystery girl shifted again, having unfrozen, and made a small noise, like she wanted to say something but couldn't. The noise didn't give him any idea who it was. He decided to just bite the bullet and look. He turned a little and then closed his eyes, swallowed, and turned over completely. Blue, he suddenly thought, the dress was blue. And he knew. Even before he had opened his eyes and looked, he knew. And so when he finally peeled his eyes open, he wasn't surprised.

"Harry-," she choked out. He took a deep breath.

"I know." A single tear ran down her cheek and he reached out and wiped it away, surprising himself, and her.

And in his entire life, Harry had never dreamed that one day he would wake up like this, and that he would ever have to think so hard about what to say to his best friend.

Hermione Granger leaned the palms of her hands against the cold shower wall and screwed up her eyes. Way to go, Hermione, she thought, well done for sleeping with your best friend, who just happens to be your ex-boyfriend's best friend as well! She grabbed the shampoo bottle and clicked open the top. Immediately the fresh, mint smell of Harry overtook her and she regretted saying that she would use his bathroom for her shower. But her bedroom was a long way away, and people had been making their way to breakfast when she had desperately needed a shower and, if she was honest, an excuse to get away from Harry. Waking up had been the worst experience of her life. Firstly, she had drunk way too much of the Muggle alcohol Lavender had dared her to try, and she hadn't been too skimpy with the magical stuff either. This had left her with her first, and she had to say her last, hangover, and it was bad. Having never really drunk before, Hermione wasn't used to it and had felt, on her return to consciousness, like she had sixteen lumberjacks dancing in her head singing the Lumberjack song from Monty Python, with accompanying dance moves. Her second reason was that she had woken up and kicked someone half a moment before her brain flooded last night's memories back into her head. This had been scary, because she wasn't quite clear on what she had done and with whom. But then came her third reason. She had opened her eyes and seen his hair, had seen his shoulders, and had accepted her stupidity, just as Harry Potter had turned to look at her.

Harry Potter. Who didn't know his name in her world? Well, now, Hermione Granger, his best friend and confidante, had slept with him. She squeezed her eyes shut again and tried not to cry. Anyone else, she screamed at herself inwardly, it could have been anyone else, but you slept with him. Harry fucking Potter. Way to go, Hermione, what a brilliant way to ruin a friendship! She washed her hair with his shampoo, wincing at the scent wafting in her face, and then washed her body swiftly, taking great care with certain places. Climbing out of Harry's shower cubicle, she grabbed a towel from the peg and wrapped it around herself. She tried to clear her mind by closing her eyes but all that did was suddenly bring the realisation home to her. She had just had sex with her best friend, and it was just going to be a one-night-stand. Not only that, she had just lost her virginity. She had lost something precious that she had been trying to keep for the one man who would love her more than life itself. She screwed up her face and leaned her head against the wall, almost preventing the cries from escaping. Collapsing to the floor, she wept uncontrollably for the loss of her innocence, her ideals, and her friendships.

Harry sat on the bed and stared at the wall in shock. I just slept with Hermione Granger, he thought idly. I just had sex with my best friend. And Ron is going to kill me. He put his head in his hands and tried to block out the thoughts that kept surfacing. Hermione was next-door in his bathroom. She was in the shower and naked, water running over her-. Stop it! Stop thinking about her like that! She is your best friend, she is not someone you can just sleep with, and you have to think about what this is going to do to you two! And to Ron! Harry stood up and slid on his blue boxer shorts, running his hands through his hair again and again. He couldn't seem to stop and he had to clench his fists on the back of his desk chair before he could control himself. And with a resigned sigh, he began to pace up and down his bedroom, trying to breathe like a vaguely normal person. He heard the shower turn off and he immediately thought about what Hermione must be going through as he paced up and down. She wasn't even in her own room, she was having to spend more time than she wanted to with a man who she was finding it hard not to run screaming from. Harry closed his eyes and stopped pacing for a moment as he thought of her and the pain he had seen in her eyes when they had woken up. Suddenly, he heard a sound that he had dreaded since he had first been friends with her. It was the sound of Hermione crying. Harry raced over to the bathroom door and opened it quickly. He looked down and found Hermione slumped on the floor, sobbing her heart out into her hands, a white towel wrapped around her chest.

"Herm, oh God, Hermione." He bent down and wrapped his arms around her bare shoulders as they shook. Her hands clung onto him and he felt the wetness from her tears and her soaking hair fall down his chest.

"Harry," she whispered through her sobs, "what am I going to do?"

"At the moment, nothing. Just try and relax a little. It's going to be all right, Herm, okay? We're going to be fine."

"How can you know that?" He was silent and she sniffed loudly. "You don't know that, Harry, you don't know what I'm going to do about this."

"What can you do?" He pushed her away from his chest and looked down into her eyes. "Why can't this just be something that we shared, and leave it at that? We don't have to tell anyone, if that's what you're afraid of."

"Harry, last night was important. It was my... never mind." She looked down and played with the edge of the towel.

"No. I do mind, Herm, tell me what it is." He smiled a small, certain smile. "It's not as if it was your first time." Her silence said a lot and his smile faded. "Hermione?"

"I was a virgin, Harry." He frowned and then she looked up at him. "I never slept with Ron." Harry sat back on the floor and stared at her.

"But, I thought-."

"I know what you thought, and I know it wasn't your first time." She sighed.

"You're probably freaked out now, but-."

"You're damn right I'm freaked out!"

"I know. But weren't you wondering why I was so..." she searched for the right word, "...inexperienced?"

"But you weren't. You were good, I can remember it now, it's all coming back, and you were good." She looked up at him.

"Let's not discuss this. Can we just leave it alone, Harry? Can we just make sure it never happens again?" He nodded and helped her up off the floor.

"I'll make sure no one heard us. Are you okay?" His eyes flickered down her body and then back up to her face and she looked down, nodding.

"I'm fine. But we weren't careful, Harry, we were the other end of the spectrum from careful."

"I know. We didn't do the charms, and I didn't have any of the Muggle stuff. What happens if-?"

"Nothing is going to happen." She looked at him defiantly. "I'm fine. And I'm going back to my room." He nodded and she walked out of the bathroom and began gathering her stuff in her arms. Harry leaned against the doorframe and watched her hurry around the room, trying to find her underwear. He walked forward and plucked her knickers off the floor, where they lay half hidden under his bed. She snatched them from him, blushing, and he grabbed her arms to stop her walking away.

"Don't be embarrassed, Hermione. I'm still Harry, I'm still your friend, and I still love you for always being there for me. We...-" He struggled for something to say. "...Last night was-."

"Important. We had sex and-." She licked her lips nervously and took a deep breath. "We made love, Harry, and I'm stupid to be embarrassed after what we shared." He nodded and she gently nudged his hands from her arms. "I'll see you later, Harry." She opened the door, checked for people in the corridor, and took off at a swift walk towards her room.

Harry closed the door behind her and flopped back to his bed. He lay down and buried his face in the pillow. That's it, he thought, that's it all over. You can now say that your friendship had been successfully ruined by you and the fact that you can't keep your dick in your trousers long enough to recognise it's your best friend you are about to screw. And that she was a VIRGIN. Way to go, Potter! Well done, maybe you should get some recognition for this as well as all the good things you've done. Hell, they call you The Boy Who Lived, but really you're The Boy Who Fucks Things Up. His brain was being far too sarcastic for his liking but Harry didn't care. He thought he deserved it anyway, he might as well get all the hollering out of the way or he'd only do it in public. And that could get embarrassing because no one ever understand that sometimes you do have to argue with yourself. His brain continued. Now go and have a shower, you need to freshen up and prepare to lie, put on a happy face, and set a good example for everyone else in the school. Aren't you glad that being Head Boy means you get your own bathroom and you don't have to share? Comes in very handy when you screw the Head Girl, doesn't it?

Hermione pulled on her robes and shrugged out her hair so that it hung down her back, before checking her face in the mirror. She had washed off her make-up in Harry's shower and her face was clean and bare as she looked at herself, trying to look deeper and find why what had happened last night had happened. She stared into her own eyes and tried her best to smile. Her eyes closed and she stopped any tears leaking out, flinging her eyelids open and forcing a wide smile. She grabbed her hairbrush and dragged the brush through it, watching wearily as it bushed up and made her face suddenly look small. She reached tiredly for her wand and performed a swift charm that smoothed her hair enough so that she could pull it into a ponytail and tie it securely at the back of her head. Forcing the smile onto her face again, she looked brightly into the mirror and then turned away to gather her books, and then cursed because it was Saturday and she didn't have any lessons to take her mind off Harry and her. She took a deep breath and went to her door. Opening it, she gathered herself together and stepped out into the stone hallway of the top floor of Gryffindor Tower.

She took the stairs two at a time, making the blood rush twice as fast around her body to give her a bit of adrenaline to wake up with. She slowed to a stately walk as she came to the bottom of the stairs and wandered through the common room and out of the portrait hole. She met several first years hurrying back from breakfast and they squeaked nervously as she swept past them without a smile. She made her way towards the Great Hall and was miles away in her own thoughts as she reached it, when suddenly a person equally lost in their thoughts came hurtling down a staircase to her right. They collided and Hermione sat on the floor, winded, before noticing whom it was.

"Harry, are you okay?" He nodded distractedly and she looked down. He stood up quickly, brushing himself down, and offered a hand. She was about to take it when a familiar drawling voice cut through their painful silence.

"Well, well, if it isn't our cherished Head Boy and his Mudblood sidekick having a quick roll on the floor." Harry's eyes burned as he stared at Draco Malfoy's icy blond looks, and Hermione took the hand that he was still offering. He pulled her to her feet and she stepped in between them, pushing Harry away towards the Great Hall.

"Malfoy, go and buy yourself a clue," she spat. "Some people in this school aren't screwing everything they have contact with." She dragged Harry into the Hall by his sleeve, ignoring Malfoy's cold glare, and they arrived in the doorway to the Great Hall together, Hermione brushing her robes down. She looked up and saw that the Hall was emptier than usual. We must be quite late, she realised. Following Harry, she saw that he was heading for the spot next to Ron and she took the chair across from them both, next to Ginny Weasley, who was busy untangling her curly hair from Neville's wand for some reason. Hermione grabbed some toast and began to butter it, not looking up or speaking to anyone.

"Morning, Herm," Ginny said brightly. "You look like death warmed up. Sleep well?" Hermione rewarded her sunny voice with a glare and poured herself some pumpkin juice. "Sorry, it's just you are usually giving us all a lecture right now about how you never drink and that it's really bad for you and that bad things happen when people get drunk, and...oh, I forget the rest, I've usually zoned out by then." Hermione closed her eyes and willed Ginny to stop talking.

"It is bad for you, and bad things do happen to people when they're drunk." She didn't hazard a glance at Harry as she said this, but she knew he would be looking at her. "Don't take the piss out of my speech, it's all true. I just disregarded myself for a night, and I'm not glad I did. I feel like shit, I wish I hadn't drunk anything, and I don't care what any of you think about what I did anyway." With that, she abandoned her breakfast, stood abruptly, and stormed out of the Hall. Ginny sat with her mouth open, almost on the verge of tears.

"What did I say?"

"She can't talk to people like that!" Ron stood up, angry, and made to go after her. Harry stuck out an arm and stopped him.

"No, Ron, I'll go." He stood up and sighed wearily. "You'll only have an argument with her and that won't help matters at all." He clambered off his seat and smiled at him. "I have to go over some Head Boy stuff with her later anyway, I'd prefer it if she wasn't in a bad mood for that."

"But, Harry! She really upset Ginny!" Ron was really angry with her, Harry could tell, but he still didn't want Ron to make things any worse than they already were.

"I'll go and tell her. She's just tired, she's stressed, and she has a hangover. Leave her be for a while." Harry turned to Ginny and smiled. "She'll come and apologise, I'm sure. Just give her a little bit of time." Ginny nodded sombrely and Harry took a deep breath and walked out of the Great Hall after Hermione.

"Hermione?" He opened the door to her bedroom and looked around the large circular room. Knocking on the door as he opened it, he heard the sound of the toilet flushing and then she came walking out of her bathroom in just a pair of jeans and a spaghetti-strap t-shirt, her robes were lying discarded on the bed. She raised her eyebrows at him and he shrugged in answer.

"I didn't say you could come in."

"I'm sure Ginny didn't say you could make her cry." She closed her eyes and put her hands up to her face.

"I know. Oh God, is she okay?" Harry nodded and leaned against her door, closing it as he did so.

"Hermione, are you all right with everything?" She nodded, taking her hands away from her face, and then she collapsed in her chair and held her head in her hands.

"No, Harry, I'm not all right with everything. I feel like a slut, I feel like I should be apologising to everyone because of what I did."

"Why should you apologise to people? And to who, anyway?"

"Ron, mainly. I made him wait, Harry, I said I didn't want to until I found the right person, and then I just go and lie on my back for you." She dug her fingertips into her head and closed her eyes, breathing hard.

"Don't call it that," he said, his voice hard. "Don't you make it sound like something dirty. It was a mistake, Hermione, nothing more than a mistake. We aren't strangers; we aren't people who barely know what each other are like. You are my best friend. You and Ron are my best friends, and in one night I've managed to hurt both of you." He walked over to her and took her wrists, pulling her gently into standing position. "We know each other. And last night was just something that we didn't plan, but can't change. So we have to concentrate on being friends and doing what we do best together." She gave him an odd look and he raised one eyebrow.

"That's helping to run the school, Hermione. The whole Head Boy and Head Girl thing. Remember?" She stuck her tongue out and he smiled. "Are you going to be okay?"

"No. I'm still worried, Harry. What if I'm-? What if something comes of the fact that we weren't careful?" He shook his head.

"I don't know. But we can find out. We have to go to the library and check out some stuff about the prefect organisation in the reference section, so we can look up some charms then. Okay?" She nodded. "Now put your robes back on, Herm, you'll get cold. It is October, you know."

"Yes, Mother." Harry went to the door and then turned and gave her a mischievous grin.

"You have a weird relationship with your mother, don't you, Herm?" She realised what he meant almost instantly and he ducked out of the room just as her hairbrush hit the door, exactly where his head had been a moment before.

*~*~*~*~*

"Found one!" Harry whispered gleefully at Hermione as she sat at a table in the library, surrounded by timetables and old books about the prefect rules. (There had been specific rules for prefects ever since the Prefect Uprising in 1875.)

"What's it called?" Hermione stood up and hurried over to him, where he stood with a heavy, dusty book entitled 'The Ins And Outs Of The Mistakes We Make'.

"It's the Cuminfans charm. Seems quite simple." Harry ripped the page out in one swift motion and pocketed it. Hermione looked aghast.

"Harry! That's a library book!" He shrugged.

"It's either that, or we explain to everyone why we're carrying this particular book on our way back to the common room." She sighed heavily and nodded.

"Okay, fine. But this is the one and only time you're allowed to."

"Hermione, I'm Head Boy, I think I know what the rules are and how I can bend them." She turned and walked off, throwing herself down in a chair and immersing her head into another book.

"Yeah, well, some rules aren't meant to be broken."

"Really. Well, which ones would they be?" Hermione was quiet for a few moments and she didn't look up from her book. Harry shrugged and went back to reading last year's roster for prefect duties. It was a short while before Hermione spoke again.

"The rules of friendship," she said softly. Harry looked up at her and she carried on working.

*~*~*~*~*

Life continued on as normal, and Harry began to worry when, almost two months into the term, nothing incredibly evil had happened to him or anyone he knew because of Voldemort's rising. Hermione had calmed down a little bit since their last argument, which had happened when Harry had been feeling particularly moody after double Potions and had snapped at her, and she had stopped casting painful glances at Ron when she was feeling particularly guilty. Harry was also glad she had stopped sneaking into wherever he was sitting and making him discuss what had happened. She had been so upset about their mistake at one point that she had got less than 95 per cent in an Advanced Transfiguration exam, and it had scared her into moving on with her life. After they had cast the Cuminfans charm and found out that Hermione was not pregnant, things had almost gone back to normal. But despite all her attempts at moving on and forgetting what they had done, and accepting that it was a risk of having male best friends, Harry still found himself opening Hermione's bedroom door on a rainy November night to see if she was still upset after shouting at someone in the common room earlier.

"'Mione?" She turned away from her window and smiled at him through a tearful mask. He frowned concernedly at her and moved forward.

"No," she said quickly, holding out her hand. "I don't need you to come running after me every time I go crazy at someone, Harry."

"Someone has to." He closed the door and gave her a sympathetic smile as he leaned against it. "You really upset Janna, you know. She cried." Hermione nodded and collapsed against her windowsill before sliding slowly to the floor.

"She didn't even do anything wrong."

"I know. It wasn't really her fault that she sat on your Transfiguration homework." Hermione's head snapped up.

"She sat on my Transfiguration homework?"

"You didn't know?"

"No! I yelled because she had made a mess in the prefect's bathroom on the fourth floor. She left my towels on the floor and she didn't empty her tub. Filch had to when he was checking at night, and I got an earful from him." She stood up and strode towards Harry. "Which piece did she sit on? That homework took me hours!" She reached for the door handle and Harry grabbed her arm.

"Sit down, Herm." She just looked at him. "Now." She obeyed, straight down onto the floor, and he followed suit. "Breathe." She leaned her face forward in her hands and tears began leaking through her fingers.

"Bugger. Bugger. Shit. Bugger!" She swore forcefully and quietly into her hands and Harry smiled, laying his hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

They sat there together in silence for a little while and then it was Harry who broke the pure lack of sound.

"'Mione, we should have a talk. We can't do it now, so we'll meet tomorrow in a classroom, maybe after dark. But we cannot go on like this. You snap at everything that breathes loudly and I jump every time you walk into a room, or if anyone mentions you or anyone I've ever been out with. This is ridiculous. We are meant to set examples for the younger students, we shouldn't be trying to avoid each other." Hermione opened her mouth to argue and Harry shook his head, holding up one finger. "Don't deny it, I know you try to avoid me. It is kind of hard when we have to do so much together, isn't it?" She smiled and nodded.

"Not just me then?" He shook his head and then heaved himself off the floor.

"I'll see you down there, apologising to Janna, in five minutes." He opened the door and smiled. "I have to go and check the classroom timetable." She nodded and he walked out into the hallway.

"Hey, Harry," she called after him. He turned around, the light catching the wire rims of his glasses, and she smiled. "Thanks." He nodded and turned again to run down the steep spiral staircase with the air of someone who had done the same thing many times before, leaving Hermione to stare after him. Before she closed her eyes slowly and headed back into her room.