Full Circle

Chapter 2

Wherein the deep night sky
The stars lie in its embrace
The courtyard still in its sleep
And peace comes over your face

'Come to me' it sings
'Hear the pulse of the land
The ocean's rhythms pull
To hold your heart in its hand'

And when the wind draws strong
Across the cypress trees
The nightbirds cease their songs
So gathers memories.

-Loreena McKennitt, "Courtyard Lullaby"

It was very late in the evening and most of the party guests had long since gone home. Hermione had made several attempts to help Ginny and Mrs Weasley with the cleaning up but neither would allow her to lift a finger, so finally Hermione gave up and joined Harry and Ron at the edge of the garden, where they were slowly adding to the collection of butterbeer bottles lining the top of the garden wall.

Harry drained his bottle, set it atop the wall, and sprawled out on the grass, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "sixteen bottles of butterbeer on the wall.... " He stretched contentedly, toeing off his shoes and socks and wiggling his feet in the grass.

Ron chuckled and opened another bottle for himself, catching Hermione's eye as he looked up. "I take it you tried to help Mum clean up and she shooed you away?" he asked, flicking the bottle cap in her direction.

She caught the cap and tossed it back at him, huffing. "Yes, I did. Honestly, the least she could do was let me help with the cleaning up - I didn't get here in time to help with the preparations, and she went to so much trouble to make this a special party for Harry...." She trailed off when she felt a gentle tug on the hem of her skirt, and looked down to see Harry grinning up at her.

"Come sit down, Hermione," he said, patting a spot on the grass between him and Ron. "It's nice down here."

Hermione sat down, tucking her feet under her and eyeing the two of them suspiciously. "You two are just drinking butterbeer, aren't you?" she asked.

"Butterbeer courtesy of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," said Ron, turning his bottle so that she could see the label with the twins' trademark on it - three intertwined W's.

Harry gestured to the line of bottles on the garden wall with one hand, his other hand finding Hermione's and squeezing gently. "We didn't drink all those," he said innocently. "Tonks helped. She wanted to see if it was easier to change her hair colour after a few drinks, so who were we to stop her?"

"Did it help?"

"Dunno." He gestured towards the other end of the garden, where Tonks was apparently sound asleep on one of the picnic table benches.

"What is in that stuff, anyway?" asked Hermione, reaching for one and attempting to pry off the cap.

"Dunno," said Harry, taking the bottle from her, twisting off the cap, and handing it back. "S'good, though."

"It is," agreed Ron.

Hermione sipped her butterbeer tentatively. It didn't taste any different than regular butterbeer, but it left a pleasant, warm tingle all over her body with each sip. "Mmm," she said, taking another sip. "Though knowing your brothers, we're likely to moult or turn purple or some such nonsense."

Ron drained his bottle and Banished it up onto the wall with the others. "So far, so good - no purple, no feathers, and no puking."

The twins' butterbeer was actually quite good, Hermione decided. She leaned back against Ron's chair, stretching her feet out in front of her and smoothing her skirt over her knees. The night air still had a bit of the day's heat, but a soft breeze was blowing, and now that most of the guests were gone, it struck her how very quiet it was out here in the country. Her trip to the States had been noisy, busy, and frantic, and the sudden contrast with the calm cosiness of the Burrow was a welcome change.

"You're awfully quiet, Hermione," said Harry, rolling over onto his side and looking at her, a bit of grass stuck in his hair.

"Just thinking," said Hermione, gesturing to the garden and the house and everything around them with her bottle, "that this is quite nice. Very nice indeed. It's good to be back here."

"You've not said much about your holiday," said Ron. "Did you have a good time?"

Hermione thought for a moment, delaying her answer by taking a long drink of her butterbeer. How much could she safely tell him without revealing the other purpose behind her trip? "It was... productive," she finally answered.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" asked Harry.

"Pretty much," she answered, not particularly wanting to discuss this in front of Ron, for many reasons.

Ron frowned. "What were you looking for?"

"Er," said Hermione, fidgeting. "Just something I wanted to do a little research on is all."

"What kind of research?" Ron looked over at Harry. "Do you know what she's on about?"

Harry's lazy grin faded. "Er... well...." He looked up at Hermione, and Hermione looked from him to Ron, not knowing how to answer Ron's question or what to say.

Ron blushed and looked away, biting his lip. "Okay then, you can't tell me. I get it."

Hermione sat up on her knees, looking up at Ron and hoping he would understand that she just couldn't tell him about her research and wishing Harry hadn't brought it up. They couldn't be fighting now, not when she'd just come back. They'd fought too much over the last year to even start up with that again.... "No, it's not like that at all, Ron, you don't get it."

"It's okay," Ron said with a nervous cough, wheeling backwards a few inches.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry, also sitting up.

"I think... I think I'm going back in the house. Sorry... I just... er...." He backed up enough so that he wouldn't run over Hermione's fingers, then turned and went back to the house. Hermione could see a red flush creeping up the back of his neck as he wheeled away.

Harry flopped back onto the grass, letting the back of his head hit the ground with a thud. "Me and my big mouth.... I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "I didn't know what to say to him."

"I know, I know," said Harry. "And he'll be okay in the morning, I think. But honestly, Hermione... there's going to come a point where you're going to have to tell him. Especially if you did find out what you were looking for." He rolled over onto his stomach, propping up on his elbows. "You did find it, didn't you?"

The anxiety of the last few moments melted away with the eagerness to tell Harry what she'd found, to share with him what she'd discovered in one of the dusty old American wizarding libraries. She glanced around, and even though no one but the still-snoozing-Tonks was still outside she lowered her voice anyway, stretching out on the grass beside Harry. "Well," she began, finishing off her butterbeer, "do you remember the notebook I found that day we were restoring the Hogwarts library?"

"That Muggle notebook that had all the information about those stone circle things? Like Stonehenge?"

"Right," said Hermione. "What those are, are actually portals of a sort. They're scattered all over the world - there are a good handful of them across the British Isles, Stonehenge being the most famous, and there's another in Scotland that's not too far from Hogwarts, called Craigh na Dun. And there are several in the States and Canada as well. They act as sort of a Time Turner - but on a scale of years, not hours or days. With a bit of manipulation, you can go to almost any time you want."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You mean, you can go back with these circles, and... and change things?" His voice dropped until it was just barely audible. "And you can go to... to any time you want?"

There was a look of longing in his eyes that Hermione had only seen once before, in those awful days after their battle down in the Department of Mysteries when the reality of Sirius's death hadn't quite settled in, and it twisted at her heart. "Well, no, not exactly," she said, putting her empty bottle aside and reaching for one of his hands. "I don't believe it's quite possible to change history. A few people have tried, apparently - tried to avert wars and rebellions and such - and haven't succeeded."

"Oh." Harry paused for a moment, looking at the flattened grass where he'd been sprawled, and then said, "If you can't change history...."

"Honestly, Harry, don't you remember our experience with the Time Turner?" she said, feeling slightly exasperated. "We didn't change anything that actually happened. Our perceptions of events were different each time we experienced them, but the events themselves were exactly the same. You can't change history, and even if you could, think of how many other things would be affected that you wouldn't have intended."

"Then that means we can't prevent Ron's accident and we can't change anything that happened this year - so what good does it do to be able to go back in time?"

Hermione found it impossible to bite back her smile this time. "I've found Master Raymond."

Harry blinked. "Raymond? That odd fellow you said could Apparate on Hogwarts grounds and taught you how to do this... healing thing that you do?"

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm. I did! He lived in Paris, just as I suspected, and I found a record of his whereabouts in..." She hesitated, knowing how ridiculous her next statement was going to sound. "In 1743."

"1743?" Harry sat up with a yelp. "You mean we've got to go all the way to 1743 to find this Raymond person?"

Hermione swallowed, knowing he would not react well to the next thing she had to tell him, and shook her head. "No, we don't have to go back to 1743... I have to go back. Alone."

Harry scowled. "Hermione, you're smart and clever and could hex the trousers off just about anyone, and you know loads of things and all that, but what kind of friend, or er... boyfriend - " he coughed, obviously feeling odd about saying that, " - would I be if I let you go trotting off two hundred and fifty something years into the past all by yourself? That's ridiculous!"

"There's no letting to it, Harry!" she said, indignant. "You can't go because only certain people can get through these stones. This whole business of having these abilities - the healing skills and the ability to travel through time using these stones - it seems to be a sort of mutation among Muggleborn witches and wizards. I couldn't quite figure it out, and it seems no one else has either, but it only happens a few times a generation. It's some sort of recessive gene, that's usually dormant unless..." She trailed off, seeing the confused and slightly glazed look on his face. "In short, it's rare for Muggleborns, extremely rare for halfbloods, and basically impossible for purebloods to have it. I'm pretty sure you don't have it, Harry, or Raymond would have mentioned it when he was here last year."

Harry was silent for a moment, running his thumb idly along her hand. She glanced down at their joined hands and could still see the faint ghost of the scars on the back of his, spelling out a silvery I must not tell lies in Harry's cramped scrawl.

He swallowed and looked up at her. "So... are you going?"

Hermione nodded slowly, the weight of what she'd discovered slowly settling in. It had seemed like an exciting academic theory when sitting in the middle of a library half a world away, but now that she was actually discussing it with someone it seemed much more real, and actually sort of... scary.

"When? Soon?"

"Soon? No... There are only four days a year these stone circles are 'open', so to speak. They're on the cross quarters - the days that fall evenly between the solstices and equinoxes. I don't know how or why that is, but that seems to be the safest and most efficient time to travel. It's possible to travel at other times, but it's incredibly dangerous. The next one, Lughnasdh, is August first, but... I don't think I'll be ready by then. But maybe by Halloween - they call it Samhain in these texts - everything should be in place."

Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you've done all this - all this research and planning and discovery - and I've about a million more questions for you, but I can't ask them tonight. I've just had the first birthday party of my entire life, at which you show up out of nowhere, and I've had far too many of the twins' butterbeers." He scooted clumsily across the grass towards her until their sides just touched. "I missed you."

Another flush of warmth made her cheeks burn, but it this time it wasn't from the butterbeer. "I missed you too." She pressed her hand palm-flat against his, the slight calluses on his fingers brushing against hers and feeling just like she remembered. Don't be silly, it's not been that long, she told herself.

Harry looked at their hands for a moment, as if he were considering something, and then shifted, gently nudging her onto her back. "Know what else I missed?" he asked, eyes bright behind his glasses with a look that she didn't think was wholly attributable to the alcohol. He leaned closer, his bare toes brushing against her leg.

"What?"

"This. You." He ran a finger lightly along the curve of her jaw. "Us." His glasses slipped down his nose a bit, and he pushed them back up before brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "Okay, the stupid glasses I could do without, but...."

Hermione felt her pulse quicken, and was at once half giddy at the prospect of where this might lead and very grateful that the events of a month ago had not scarred him so deeply he'd lost his sense of humour. "How much?"

"A lot."

His lips brushed hers lightly, and she looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer for a deeper kiss. There was something slightly scandalous about lying in the cool grass, the slightly muggy summer air hanging warm and heavy all around them, not entirely in public view but not exactly hidden from anyone either, and she decided there wasn't anything she'd rather be doing at this moment than kissing Harry Potter. Everything seemed so much more somehow; the warm tingle of the butterbeer, the soft scratch of grass against her skin and Harry's warm weight against her, and she sighed softly against his mouth because it just felt so right. Harry answered her sigh with one of his own, sliding his hands under her shirt and -

"Wotcher, Harry!"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in the hopes that if she thought about it hard enough, then maybe, just maybe she wouldn't see Tonks' grinning face when she opened them.

"Sorry to interrupt," Tonks continued, beaming down at them with a wink, "but I thought I'd warn you that half the Order can see what you're up to and er...." She nodded in the direction of the house, where Kingsley was leaning against the steps, half in the shadows and discreetly not looking in their direction.

Hermione sat up, pulling her shirt back in order, and decided she really didn't want to know what other Order members were lurking in the shadows. "Thanks for the warning, Tonks."

"Yeah, thanks." Harry sat up also, pushing his slightly smudged glasses back in place. "There's always something," he grumbled, his expression growing dark.

Tonks laughed. "You didn't think I was actually passed out drunk over there, did you?"

"Er," said Harry.

"Oh yeah, I'd really be doing my job if I'd been asleep on the job," she said, trying to control her laughter enough to get the words out. When she calmed down finally, she said, "Look, Harry, just face it. You're going to be followed for a while. The Order's been discussing it - we're to keep an eye on you at all times. We'll try to stay out of the way, but considering what's happened lately...."

"Well if you're going to be talking about me all the time and making decisions about me, then I think I've a right to be in on that, don't you think?" snapped Harry, getting to his feet. "I think I'm old enough to start making some of these decisions myself, you know!"

Hermione stood, placing a hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, don't get angry with Tonks, she was just -"

Harry brushed her off, glaring at Tonks. "Where's Remus? Has he left yet?"

Tonks shrugged, apparently unperturbed by Harry's sudden outburst. "In the house, I think."

Harry stomped off towards the house, not even stopping to put his shoes on.

*****

After Ron left Harry and Hermione in the back garden, he went back to the house even though he didn't particularly want to - more of lack of anywhere else to go than anything. He knew he was being an arse and yet he didn't really know any other way to be. There was something going on with Harry and Hermione - something more than just their relationship - something they weren't keen on telling him, and it made him uncomfortable.

The sitting room was mercifully empty. He didn't think he could deal with his mother's energetic cheerfulness or Ginny's sisterly concern at the moment, and while he could hear them chattering away in the kitchen he hoped they would stay there and not get the idea to go looking for him.

Ron pulled out his wand. "Incendio," he muttered, though he wasn't the slightest bit cold, and a small, cheerful fire instantly sprang up in the fireplace. It was entirely too warm for a fire and he didn't know why he'd just done that. Maybe he just wanted the crackling noise to fill up the empty space so he wouldn't have to think so closely about things.

Too late for that, he realised, stuffing his wand back in his pocket. Things were going to come to a head soon, and he didn't see any way to avoid it. Was it really just the fact that they knew something that they weren't telling him, or was it just the fact of them that was driving him nuts? Whether it was one or the other, neither or both at once, one thing still remained perfectly clear; and as much as he tried to tell himself it wasn't so, he couldn't deny it anymore.

He was still in love with Hermione.

He'd tried to convince himself that he was over her. He'd spent the better part of last year telling himself that it just wasn't meant to be between the two of them, they were better off as friends, and considering what they'd all been through they all ought to just be grateful to be alive. And he, especially, ought to be damn grateful to be alive and grateful that he was able to somewhat patch things up with his best friends and they with him. And Merlin knows they'd saved each others' lives plenty of times, enough for a lifetime of wizards' debts....

And it wasn't like Hermione and Harry were being obvious about what was going on between them.

And Hermione had only been back a couple of hours.

But still.

There had been something so... right... about the three of them in the back garden just now, drinking butterbeer and talking about nothing of any real consequence, with Harry sprawled in the grass looking more content than Ron had seen him in years and Hermione sitting between them, leaning on his chair. It was something that he hadn't felt between them for a very long time, a sense of balance and belonging that had made him feel warmer than the butterbeer and the fire put together.

And then it had been thrown out of whack by whatever it was they were keeping from him.

Ron twisted the gold watch on his wrist, heard the floorboards creak behind him, and sighed. "Mum, if you're going to lecture me, just save it, okay?"

There was a cough, and then Remus Lupin said, "No lectures, I promise."

Ron wasn't expecting that, and jerked in surprise, banging the back of his wheelchair against one of the rickety end tables. "Shit, you'd think I'd learn how to manage this thing by now," he muttered, reaching out to catch the small lamp before it fell off the table. "Oh, er, sorry, Professor Lupin," he added, when he realised what he'd just said.

Remus held up a hand and smiled. "I've not been your professor for some years now, Ron. Just call me Remus, please." He nodded to the sofa. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Sure," said Ron. "Though I'm not sure how much company I'll be."

Remus shook his head and made a dismissive gesture. "I think we've all had enough company for one evening."

Ron shrugged, still half absorbed in his earlier thoughts.

"You know," said Remus, after a pause, "I paid a visit to Minerva McGonagall the other day - just to see how she was doing, since she's officially the Headmistress now."

"Uh-huh."

"She was looking over the official N.E.W.T. results for last term, filing them away in the student records and so forth. I helped her out for a while, since the files were a bit of a mess after what happened to the school."

"Er... okay," said Ron, not sure why Remus was telling him this.

"I took a bit of a look at your results, actually."

Ron snorted. "Didn't see much there, did you? Didn't even get to take my Potions N.E.W.T., thanks to Snape. He said I'd missed too many classes and would have to make up all the practicals before he'd sign off for me to sit for it."

"Lots of people get by without a Potions N.E.W.T., Ron."

"Tell that to Hermione."

"Indeed." Remus looked at him thoughtfully. "It wasn't the lack of a Potions N.E.W.T. that caught my eye. I thought your Divination N.E.W.T. was the most interesting thing on your report." He pulled a piece of parchment from his robes pocket, smoothing it over his knee. "Seems I wasn't the only one who found it interesting - someone else noticed your marks and made a few notes to include in your file." He studied the parchment with his gentle-yet-businesslike professor's gaze. "Catroptomancy - highest N.E.W.T. score in one hundred years. Crystallomancy - highest N.E.W.T. score in one hundred and thirty three years. Pyromancy - highest N.E.W.T. score in seventy eight years. Tarot - highest in -"

"Give me that," snapped Ron, leaning over so suddenly to yank the parchment out of Remus's grasp he nearly fell out of his wheelchair, catching himself at the last moment with his free hand. "What kind of rubbish is this? Who wrote this up, that old fraud Trelawney?" He ran his finger down the list of areas on the Divination N.E.W.T., his face burning when he read the comments beside each score.

"She didn't give the examination and she didn't mark it," said Remus, "and you know that. That's a note from the Ministry's Divination examiner."

"It's rubbish," said Ron. He tossed the parchment onto the sofa. "I just made up that stuff on the exam, like I always made up my Divination homework."

"And none of those things you 'made up' ever came true?"

Ron shook his head. "No! Of course they didn't!"

"Not even once?"

"No!" protested Ron, annoyed. "I'd always make stuff up - like third year when we first had to read stupid sodding tea leaves and I told Harry's his meant he'd get some unexpected gold -"

"He did get that money for the Triwizard Tournament, did he not?" Remus asked patiently, as if explaining to a slightly confused first year how to carve one's name into a cucumber and feed it to a kappa to stop it from biting.

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't exactly unexpected, and he didn't even keep it," Ron mumbled. "It's not that it means - "

"Remus! Remus, are you still here?" Harry's voice, muffled by the door but still loud, cut Ron off midsentence.

"Uh-oh," said Remus.

A moment later Harry appeared in the doorway, so livid Ron could imagine steam coming out of his nose like a dragon. "How about telling me what's going on here, Remus?" Harry snapped, stomping barefooted into the room.

Remus shifted slightly on the sofa, seemingly unperturbed by Harry's sudden, angry appearance. "Going on with what?"

Harry waved his hands around angrily in an 'everything' sort of gesture. "This following thing. People watching me every bloody minute. Kingsley out there skulking about in the shadows and Tonks pretending to be falling-down pissed and God knows who else just hanging about with their eyes on me, and not even telling me about it! I can't even - " he cut his eyes over to Ron for the briefest of seconds before glaring at Remus again - "kiss my girlfriend without them watching, and I don't remember you even asking me about it!"

"Harry - " began Hermione, who had come into the room just behind Harry, looking dishevelled and upset. She had bits of grass in her hair.

Harry ignored her, still addressing Remus. "Don't 'Harry' me! I think it's time you - you as in the Order - start letting me in on your plans! You've always said that no one in school could be in the Order. I left school almost a month ago, and if you're going to be making a bunch of decisions about me then I want to be a part of it."

"Harry -"

"I want in," he said flatly. "I want into the Order."

Before Remus could answer, Ron blurted out, "He's right, you should let him in," at the same time as Hermione said, "Harry, maybe that's not such a good idea."

"Not such a good idea?" Harry rounded on Hermione, giving her a look Ron didn't quite understand. "You think it's okay to go making decisions for people and not fill them in what's going on?"

"Sometimes, yes," said Hermione calmly.

"So you think it's okay that Dumbledore kept that prophecy business to himself for all that time and didn't tell me till he pretty much had to?" Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Harry kept talking, not giving her a chance. "That's bollocks! It's my business, and my life and I've the right to make decisions about what goes on!"

"It's not quite that simple," interjected Remus, getting to his feet. "You're right, Harry it is your life, but at the same time it's not just about you. There are other things at stake here, and you know that. I wish it wasn't so, but the fact of the matter is that your life, and almost everything you do, for the time being anyway, affects more that just you and those close to you, and you know why."

"That's why you need to let him in!" said Ron, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. "You're all thinking of that damn prophecy and you're forgetting that he's a person too, just like the rest of us - he's not - not - a weapon or something!"

"Wait just a minute," said Remus. "No one is treating Harry like a weapon - I think we're all exaggerating a bit here. Harry, you didn't give me a chance to explain my reasoning, and in case you hadn't noticed, I haven't actually said 'no, Harry, you can't join the Order."

"Er," said Harry.

"Right then," said Remus. "If you'd calm down for just a moment, and let me speak?"

"Er," said Harry again, flopping into a well-worn armchair by the fire and looking slightly chastised, but still simmering with anger.

Hermione didn't sit. After a moment's hesitation she leaned against a rickety bookcase, folding her arms over her chest.

"We've actually debated whether or not to bring you in," said Remus. "There are pros and cons; namely, that while you are now officially a fully qualified wizard and able to deal with the business we conduct, the fact is that you won't always be able to be objective concerning anything involving yourself. It also means you'll be privy to the Order's inner workings, and if you should by some chance be captured, you'll likely be interrogated before Voldemort attempts whatever he's planning, which means the chances of us rescuing you will be slim to none."

Harry gulped at Remus's last statement, but kept his stubborn expression. "I'll risk it."

"It's not just about your risk!" said Hermione furiously. "If something happens to you, Harry - he wins. Period. End of story."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Hermione," grumbled Harry.

Hermione huffed loudly, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, that's not what I meant and you know it."

"I think Remus was trying to say something," Ron broke in.

"Yes, I was, thank you," said Remus. "Look, Harry, we do want you in the Order. I just want you to understand where I'm coming from when I say that while I will always have your best interests at heart, Harry, there is also a wider picture here that sometimes you may not be aware of. As a matter of fact - Ron, Hermione, we'd like you to join as well."

"You would?" said Hermione and Ron at the same time.

Remus smiled, and it seemed to take a few years off of his tired face. "Of course. You three are a package deal, are you not?"

*****

A few days later, Ron went downstairs for breakfast to find Hermione alone at the table, with a cup of tea, a plate of toast, and the Daily Prophet.

"Good morning," she said, smiling up at him from the paper as he manoeuvred into place beside her at the table. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep all day."

"It's not that late," said Ron, yawning. "It's only half-nine. Late would be after lunch." He Summoned the pitcher of pumpkin juice and poured himself a glass. "Where's Harry? He was gone when I got up this morning. I didn't even hear him leave."

"He was up before dawn - he went to the Ministry, to Auror Headquarters," explained Hermione. "Auror training starts next week, didn't you know? He's gone to get his timetable and find out the particulars."

Ron frowned. "Of course I knew, he's been talking about it all summer. But you - you went through the Auror trials too... why didn't you go with him?"

Hermione buried her nose in the paper again. "I decided not to do it after all."

"What?" said Ron, nearly dropping his glass with a thunk onto the table. "Not doing it? Why not? You went through all that - those tests and duels and all that work and now you're just not going to do it?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" she snapped, briskly turning the page without looking in his direction.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Hermione slammed the paper down on the table, making her teacup rattle in its saucer. "Stupid as it may seem to you, Ron Weasley, I have my reasons, and I'll thank you to keep out of them!" She pushed her chair back to stalk off from the table but Ron caught her wrist before she could stomp away.

"Hermione, wait," he said, and she stopped, but made no move to sit back down or look at him. "Why won't you tell me what's going on here? I'm not stupid, I can tell -"

"No one said you were stupid," she said quietly.

"Yeah, I know, but you don't have to. I can tell there's something going on and you can deny it all you want but I can still tell. Hermione...." He swallowed the lump he felt forming in his throat and kept talking. "I know things didn't... work out... between us, and it's all my fault, really, but -"

"Ron, don't."

" - before that we were friends, good friends, and I'd like to think we still are, and if we are still friends then you can tell me what's going on, can't you?" He knew he sounded pathetic, but he hated being out of the loop like this, and the only thing he thought that could possibly make him sound even more pathetic would be if this turned out to be of those boyfriend/girlfriend secrets that she absolutely couldn't share with him no matter what, even if he was their best friend.

Slowly, Hermione turned around, barely shaking her head. "I can't tell you, not right now, anyway. It's just too complicated." She twisted her arm a bit so that he loosened his grip on her wrist, and her fingers slid over his palm and twined with his. Her brown eyes were dark with tears, and Ron felt like a giant, invisible hand was clamping down on his heart.

He knew he was acting like a complete and total prick, but he had to say it. "But it's not too complicated for Harry to know about, is it?"

If she had stormed off after that last comment, or slapped him, or yelled at him, or something, he wouldn't have blamed her a bit. But she didn't do any of those things. Instead she reached out with her free hand, brushing her barely shaking fingers against his jaw.

"Oh, Ron," she said quietly, and bit her lip. "It's not like that at all."

Ron closed his eyes and tried not to think about the way she was touching him - you are friends, good friends, best friends, he repeated over and over in his mind - and willed himself not to do what he desperately wanted to, which was to reach up and cup her cheek and pull her down to his level and have just one more kiss; instead, he covered her hand with his and pushed it away.

"Hermione, don't - don't do that."

She didn't let go of their joined hands, but instead knelt down beside him, looking up at him with round eyes. "Please just trust me. Can you do that? Please? I don't want to fight with you anymore."

Ron nodded slowly, and started to reply, when a stack of parchments hit the kitchen table and he looked up to see Harry standing on the other side.

"What's going on here?"