Full Circle

Chapter Ten

But now I am happy
And I have no hatred in my heart
For this trick that was played on my mind
Is gone like the morning mist

--Capercaillie, "Nil Si I nGra"

It wasn't until Hermione stepped into the shower that she realised just how tired she was. The mere existence of hot water, indoor plumbing, shampoo, and real soap was like heaven, and she stood under the shower for a very long time under the magically heated water, letting it soothe her aching muscles. She hadn't had time to get any of her clothes and things from the Burrow in the excitement of seeing Ron and Harry again, so after her shower she pulled on some of the boys' clothes that one of them had rustled up for her - a pair of Harry's baggy flannel pyjama pants and Ron's old orange Cannons t-shirt with a little hole in the hem. It felt strange to be wearing so little after months of wearing heavy dresses with thick layers of skirts, and the fabric was soft and well worn, oddly comforting. She dried her hair a little with a towel, hung it on the back of the door, and stepped into the hallway. Ron and Harry were talking in low voices in the kitchen, and she paused for a minute to listen.

"I don't know how to tell her," said Harry. Hermione peered around the corner. He looked incredibly tired. "You know Snape's last report said they weren't in any immediate danger, as far as he could tell, but she won't believe it."

"Best just to tell her right away and get it out," said Ron. "If it was me, I'd want to know right off, even if I couldn't do anything about it." He reached over and covered Harry's hand with his for a brief moment, squeezing slightly, then let go. "And we're working on something to do about it. You can tell her that - it might help to know that something's being done, even if it's not happening right this minute."

Harry nodded, putting his fingers to his temples and rubbing, as if he had a headache. "There's just - no good way to say it."

"Say what?" said Hermione, stepping into the kitchen.

Neither Harry nor Ron seemed surprised at her appearance. Harry looked up, giving her a tired smile. "Come sit down," he said.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked as she slipped into the chair beside Harry. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively.

Hermione turned to Ron. "He's not fine, I can see that as plain as day. What's going on with him?"

"Hermione - just stop, okay?" Ron said exasperatedly. "There's a lot of stuff to tell you and we haven't got a clue where to start, so just be quiet for a minute, all right?"

"Honestly Ron, I just asked a question. Harry looks terrible and if there's something wrong with him I'd really like to know, there might be something I can do or some way I can -"

"Your parents are missing," Harry blurted suddenly, cutting her off midsentence.

She blinked for a moment, not quite understanding what Harry had just said. "My... parents? Missing?"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, and Harry scooted closer to her, taking her hand. "They've been captured by Death Eaters," he said quietly.

Hermione felt as if she ought to be panicking, but instead she was surreally calm. "What would they want with my parents?" she said. "They're Muggles, they wouldn't hurt anyone..." Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, as if it wasn't really her voice, but someone else's voice, someone she didn't know.

"Somehow, V-Voldemort found out you're a White Lady," said Ron. "Well, we're pretty sure it was Malfoy who told him, because Harry had this vision thing the day we thought you were coming back and he saw Malfoy talking to Voldemort and he told him he had a plan to bring him back, because right now Voldemort is this kind of ghost thing - not really, but that's about as close to it as we can figure. And we think Malfoy's plan is to use you to bring Voldemort back to strength, and your parents are being held as a kind of bargaining chip or something...."

"As far as Snape can tell, they aren't in any immediate danger," Harry added. "They aren't being hurt. I reckon Malfoy's told them that if they're hurt, they won't be able to get you to cooperate. And the Order's making plans to get them out as soon as possible -"

"But they want to do it without putting them in danger -"

"What do you mean, without putting them in danger!" Hermione exclaimed shrilly, pulling her hand away from Harry's. "They're with Voldemort, how can they not be in danger? They're Muggles! You know what he does to Muggles - Harry, he killed your aunt and uncle and cousin to wipe out your blood protection, he killed all those Muggles at the hospital just because we got away - what do you mean they aren't in any danger!"

She felt a ridiculous and totally inappropriate urge to laugh, because it made no sense whatsoever - the very idea of her helping Voldemort was too ludicrous to comprehend, and her parents were now caught up in it, not knowing anything and completely unable to defend themselves.

"Hermione -"

'It's not like I'm going to help him. Of course I'm not going to help him! And just what do you think he's going to do to them when I refuse - send them to the Riviera for a holiday?"

"No, but -"

"Of course not! He's going to kill them!"

"Hermione, listen, I promise the Order is working on something," said Ron, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. "It's taking a while, but they are working on it, and they're going to do their best to get them back."

"Really? What kind of plan is that?"

Ron looked startled. "Well... er... there's been something holding it back."

"Holding it back? What?" Hermione snapped, barely able to hold back her fear and frustration. "You'd better explain, Ron, before I start owling everyone in the Order and find out exactly what's going on here. These are my parents we're talking about here! My parents! My Muggle parents!" Her hands shook from a combination of hunger, fear, and exhaustion, and she couldn't fathom what could have been more important than working on getting her parents back.

Harry let out a deep breath, putting his elbows on the table and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "I'm holding things back. Or I was. Maybe still am."

"What?"

Ron looked anxiously at Harry and when Harry didn't answer right away, he said, "Harry's been having these weird fits of magic. Dark magic. Nobody could figure out where they were coming from at first. He almost killed Kingsley in Auror training one day, and then he er... almost hit me with something too."

"What!? Hit you with what?"

Harry mumbled something that sounded like "the Killing Curse" but surely Hermione hadn't heard him right.

"You did what?"

"The Killing Curse, Hermione," Harry said tiredly. "I almost hit Ron with the Killing Curse. I didn't mean to - it just happened and I - it was like it wasn't even me."

"Who was it then, if it wasn't you?" And then Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and gasped, because the look on Harry's and Ron's faces told her exactly who it was. "Voldemort? But how?"

As they explained it to her, Harry and Ron taking it in turns to fill in bits and pieces of the story, all Hermione could do was sit there with her mouth hanging open. Voldemort, somehow, had been in Harry's mind, making him do all these horrible things, and it was only recently that they'd been able to figure out how to get rid of him - and she had absolutely no idea. When she found out just how recently, she made an indignant noise.

"You should be in bed!" she said, huffing at Harry. "You've just had the equivalent of brain surgery and you're up and about already! Honestly, Harry! You need to rest!"

"Yes, Mum," he said with a small smile. "If I had known you were coming back today, I would have told Snape to wait until I'd got to say hello properly."

Hermione huffed again. "That doesn't matter and you know it."

"You know, Harry, I think that Raymond bloke gave Hermione some extra lessons in bossiness," said Ron with a grin.

Before Hermione could protest, Harry said, "Nah, it's just that she's been gone so long we forgot how bossy she really was."

"I am not bossy!"

"Yes, you are," said Harry and Ron together.

"But that's okay," Harry added. "We don't mind." He and Ron sniggered for a moment, and then quickly sobered up again. "But I think it's okay now, I really do. And we're going to get your parents back." Harry reached out and took her hand again, and this time Hermione didn't pull it out of his grasp. She was still scared for her parents, and the myriad of things that could happen to them, but the firm pressure of Harry's hand on hers and the determined set of Ron's face assured her that it would all work out.

It would be all right, eventually.

*****

They finally managed to have dinner; though none of them really felt like eating due to a combination of worry and excitement and relief, hunger won out. The delicious scent of Ron's mum's cooking didn't help, either. Hermione gave them an obviously abbreviated version of her trip - what else can go wrong, Ron wondered when Hermione told them about her accident - and when she described the gemstones she'd used to get back, Ron nearly choked on his stew.

"As big as a bird's egg?" he said, as Harry pounded him helpfully on the back. "D'you still have it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No - coming back through the circle destroys them. That's what keeps you safe, you see - the gemstones 'bend' the circle's power and keep it away from you. If you try to go through at the wrong time, the circle will either toss you back out or kill you."

Ron didn't feel much like eating, after that. Hermione had risked that for him? He poked the rest of his soup in the bottom of the bowl, thinking it over.

Harry's exhaustion got the better of him not long after that, and he nearly fell asleep with his face in his stew before Hermione shooed him off to bed, waving her spoon at him. He shuffled off with a sleepy wave, promising to be more coherent in the morning, kissing Hermione's cheek quickly before leaving.

"Don't forget to take the potion Snape left for you, Harry," Ron called after him, and got a mumble in reply.

After the bedroom door closed behind Harry with a soft click, Hermione and Ron looked at each other over the dirty dishes.

"Er," said Ron. He gathered up the empty bowls with a flick of his wand and Banished them to the sink. Hermione got up without a word and went to the sink, turning on the taps. Ron hesitated a moment and then went over to join her, drying each bowl as she washed it. They worked in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the swish of water in the sink.

"I know you aren't going to ask, Ron," said Hermione quietly, handing Ron the last bowl to dry. Her fingers brushed against his as he took it from her, and he jerked the bowl away from her quickly, almost dropping it.

"Ask what?" he said. He knew what she was talking about, of course, but he didn't feel right discussing it yet.

"If I learned what I set out to learn," she replied.

"Oh," said Ron. He put the last bowl on top of the stack with the others and tossed the towel on the counter. Hermione picked up the stack of bowls and began opening and closing cabinets, looking for where the bowls should go. "Second cabinet to the right, from the sink," said Ron.

Hermione nodded and stood on tiptoe to put the bowls away, and the hem of Ron's Cannons shirt rode up slightly on her stomach, revealing a brief glimpse of soft-looking skin before she settled back on her feet again. "I can do it. I learned how and Master Raymond said that -"

"I don't doubt you can," said Ron quietly. "I didn't ask because you always do what you say you're going to do. You always have."

Hermione leaned against the counter, looking embarrassedly pleased at Ron's reply, and it made Ron feel sick inside. His heart was roiling with a hundred different emotions for a hundred different reasons - extreme gratitude for her offer and the lengths she'd gone to make it possible, curiosity as to why she kissed him before she left, resentment at her Obliviating his memory of it, guilt that he had essentially been sneaking around with her boyfriend while she was gone, and most of all, an overwhelming sense of relief that she was back.

All of this must have shown on his face, because Hermione knelt down in front of him, her hands resting on his knees. "Ron? Are you all right?"

She was so close that Ron could smell the scent of her shampoo in her hair. It was Harry's shampoo - she must have swiped it from the shower because they hadn't thought to get any of her things from the Burrow, they'd been in such a hurry to get back to Harry. She was so close that he could kiss her if he leaned just a little closer - he remembered what he'd seen in the Pensieve, with Hermione leaning over him, her hair falling down beside his face and her lips brushing against his just so - and he leaned back, putting a safe distance between them. "Just... I'm just glad you're back," he said lamely.

Hermione sat back on her heels, looking slightly hurt but attempting to hide it. "Is there something else I need to know?"

"You have no idea," Ron mumbled, feeling his face burn.

"Is anyone else in danger?"

"No."

She leaned in again. "Hurt? Sick?"

"No." Ron's chest felt very tight.

"Then it can wait till tomorrow, can't it?"

"I -"

"Let it wait till tomorrow, Ron," she said. She looked as tired as Harry, and no wonder, considering how far she'd travelled.

Ron looked at her for a long moment, secrets threatening to bubble up out of his throat like a fountain, the huge lump there the only thing keeping him quiet. "Okay," he finally managed to whisper.

She rose up then, and threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. Ron couldn't help but hug her back.

"It's so good to be back," she said, and when she finally let go he could see her lashes sparkling. He really wished she wouldn't cry, not in front of him; he wouldn't be able to stand it.

So he blurted out the first half formed thought that came to his mind.

"You should go to Harry," he said. "He doesn't like sleeping alone."

Hermione frowned at that, but nodded. "All right, I will," she said, straightening. She twisted her hands together for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to do something, and then turned abruptly and went down the hall to Harry's room.

Ron didn't watch her go.

*****

Harry felt a warm body slide into bed beside him, and he stirred, only half waking. "Ron?" he mumbled, tugging the covers back up over his bare shoulder.

There was a slight pause, and then, "It's Hermione."

He pried his eyes open then, blinking. Hermione was so close that he could smell the scent of her soap on her freshly washed skin – Ron's soap, swiped from the shower as she and Ron had been in too much of a hurry to come back to him to stop and pick up her things – underlaid with her own soft, sweet scent.

"Hey," he said. He automatically slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She tensed slightly at his touch, then relaxed against him, curling into his chest. Her hair was still damp and it tickled his nose.

God, how he'd missed that.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said quietly.

"Didn't," Harry mumbled. "S'fine." Was she really here or was he just imagining it? He'd wanted to hold her like this again for so long, woken up so many times thinking of it, he wasn't sure if this was another bit of wishful thinking. His body was certainly reacting as if she were real, but through his grogginess he couldn't be sure. "S'it really you?"

"It's really me," she said, shifting against him. Her leg slipped between his, and he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against him. So much better than he'd remembered.

He slipped his hand up the back of her shirt, and her skin was so soft and warm it made him shiver. Definitely real.

"You should be sleeping," Hermione said, only half-reprovingly. Her breath ghosted over his lips, low and husky, with a hint of want.

"I was sleeping," Harry said, his fingers tracing along the back of her neck and down between her shoulder blades. Hermione arched against him, her chest pressing against his through the thin material of the worn Cannons t-shirt, and he caught her lips in a languid kiss. He felt slow, and thick, and warm, and something tickled at the back of his mind that he really ought to be telling her but he couldn't think of anything other than the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body in his hands and how much he missed this. Missed her.

"I shouldn't have woken you," she murmured into his mouth, "but I –" Her hands went to his stomach, stroking lightly through the trail of hair that led from his navel and disappeared into his pyjama bottoms. She pushed them down, moving her fingers along his skin and he wished she wouldn't because just a little more of that and he wouldn't be able to stand it.

Harry wanted her more at that moment than he wanted anything in his life. He felt vaguely as though he should be telling her no, but he couldn't quite form a reason as to why, and he responded, pushing Ron's faded shirt up over her breasts, his lips moving along her skin in a way that made her moan softly and rock her hips against him with a soft oh.

Her skin was so soft, and he slipped his hands down her back and under the waistband of the pyjama bottoms she wore – his pyjama bottoms – urging her farther up his body, and when he got them off her he thought he'd never be able to wear them again without remembering how they clung to her curves so smoothly, heavy with her scent, as she had no knickers on underneath.

"Sorry," she said, looking a little embarrassed, "I didn't have my things with me, and no other clothes, and..." Her voice trailed off when Harry pulled her down to him, burying his nose between her thighs and surrounding himself with the most intimate part of her. Harry cupped her arse in his hands, helping support her shaking legs; he could feel her thighs trembling on either side of him, almost blocking out the soft whimpers spilling from Hermione's throat. She tried to speed up the movement of her hips, but Harry tightened his grip on her and held her back, making her moan in frustration.

"Harry, please," she whispered, her legs shaking almost violently now. "Please – I need –" Her voice broke on the word, turning it almost into a sob. She shuddered uncontrollably, and Harry urged her downwards, pushing her hips down to slide right onto him and oh – he bit down his own strangled sob at the feel of her heat surrounding him, enclosing him with her warmth. She rocked back and forth, grinding her hips against his and against the hand he'd worked between them – and then she was clenching down on him, pulling him over the edge along with her, making his toes and fingers and every part of him curl up in the desperate desire to be part of her, with her, inside her and never let go.

Hermione's face was wet with tears when she leaned down to kiss him afterward, and she was whispering something he couldn't quite make out for the sobs welling up in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Harry. So sorry, I didn't mean to do it, I thought I was doing the right thing, I really did," she babbled between kisses. "I wasn't thinking, I thought maybe it was all a dream but it isn't, it really happened – I'm so sorry. I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I love you. I'll make it up to you, and him, I promise..."

Through the potion-smeared haze of his mind Harry realised what she was talking about – she didn't know he knew about her kissing Ron – he tried to tell her it was okay, it would work out, and that he loved her, too, but his sated state combined with the potion Snape had left was too thick to form a coherent sentence. He let her cry it out on his shoulder, praying she would listen to him in the morning when it could all make sense again.

For right now, he just wanted to hold her.

*****

Hermione woke the next day to a soft but insistent tapping at the door.

"Harry? Hermione?"

Harry sat straight up in bed at the sound of Ron's urgent voice from the other side of the door. "Yeah, Ron, hang on," he said, bolting out of bed and shoving his feet into his pyjama bottoms. Hermione slid down under the covers until only her head was visible, feeling extremely foolish, as Harry opened the door for Ron.

Ron was obviously flustered at the sight of Hermione in Harry's bed, and he avoided looking at her as he hovered half in the doorway. "I er... wouldn't have bothered you, but Dad's Flooed over. Snape sent word that the Death Eaters have already picked up on Hermione's magical signature - Apparition traces, likely - and they've already sent people out to look for her. Dad wanted to know if Hermione was really back, he's got a million questions. I told him you were sleeping but he says Moody's having a fit, wanting to make sure it's really you and er..."

Harry swore under his breath and Hermione's stomach lurched. They're tracking me? she thought, twisting the sheet in her fingers.

"Don't worry, Hermione, the house is Unplottable," said Ron, as Harry pulled on his clothes. "Only reason you got here is because we Apparated together. They won't find you here. But Moody's having a fit, giving me hell for bringing you over here without making sure it was really you, so you better get dressed and get out here. You know how he is." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the living room and added, "I'll just, er, go wait out there..." before backing away and down the hall.

"Of course you're really you," Harry grumbled to Hermione. "If you weren't you'd have killed me last night, right?" He pulled his dressing gown off its hook and handed it to her, along with another pair of pyjamas. "Will that be okay until we can get your stuff from the Burrow?"

Last night. "Harry, about last night..."

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, reaching up to smooth her hair back from her face. "It's okay, Hermione. This isn't really a conversation we can have when the house is about to be crawling with half the Order. We do need to talk - all three of us - but it's going to have to wait until we've got more than five minutes."

She nodded in agreement. She needed to get some things off her chest, and from the sound of it he did as well.

The Order debriefing took hours. Everyone was so glad to see her, and she was nearly smothered under the weight of all their hugs and handshakes and questions. They wanted to know in great detail about her adventures, and Moody insisted she be scanned for hexes and tested for Polyjuice to prove she wasn't an impostor. It was very unnerving to stand still while Moody's magical eye scanned her from head to toe, checking for curses and glamours and who knew what else.

When Moody was finally satisfied that she was really herself, she turned to Snape and said, "Tell me about my parents."

Snape looked grim. "They are unharmed, for the moment. The Dark Lord grows impatient, however, as his attempts to locate you have been fruitless. The Weasleys' house has been made Unplottable, as has Potter's house, thus making them accessible only on a need-to-know basis. Your safety is relatively assured."

"But it's not me I'm worried about," said Hermione.

"It is entirely possible that more harm would come to your parents from an ill-planned rescue mission than by biding our time," said Remus.

Mrs Weasley patted her hand comfortingly. "I know you're worried for them, dear. We all are. But we have to trust that Severus will keep an eye on them as much as he is able and will alert us if there is any change. We're all working very hard to figure out a way to get them back, I promise."

"The most important thing is that you must not be put in a position where you could be forced to assist the Dark Lord," said Snape. "As distasteful as he finds the idea of accepting help from a Muggleborn, the knowledge that a White Lady could restore him to full power is enough to make your parentage irrelevant. Young Malfoy has also advised him that any harm that comes to your parents could have adverse consequences where you are concerned. For now the Dark Lord is heeding this advice, but I cannot say for how long."

"But we are trying, Hermione," said Mr Weasley.

"I promise we'll get them back," said Harry, and his promise was the most reassuring of all.

What alternative did she have other than to trust them? It wasn't as though she had any idea where Voldemort might be, and even if she did it wasn't the smartest thing in the world to plunge ahead without a plan. Sirius's death had taught them all not to underestimate Voldemort's tactics. He'd successfully lured Harry from the safety of Hogwarts using Sirius as bait, and was now attempting to do the same with Hermione, though for a different reason. She would not help him, no matter the cost.

There was no way she would use her skills against Harry.

Eventually, the topic of conversation naturally turned to the reason she'd gone in the first place - completing her training, and everything that went along with it.

"Oh, that's absolutely wonderful, dear!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. "It's so generous of you to have made this offer, Hermione, I can't tell you."

"Mum -"

"Ron is so lucky to have this opportunity, isn't he, Arthur dear?" Mrs Weasley continued. Mr Weasley looked extremely uncomfortable, fishing for just the right thing to say to her in response and coming up with nothing.

"MUM." A red flush was creeping up Ron's neck, always a danger sign.

"I - I haven't been able to talk to Ron about it at all," Hermione said quickly. "I really think that's something I should discuss with him before it becomes an open topic of conversation."

Ron shot her a grateful look across the table.

Mrs Weasley looked slightly affronted, but Mr Weasley smiled at her. "I think that's an excellent idea, Hermione - thank you."

Remus looked around the table, getting to his feet. "If no one has anything else to discuss - I have no more on the agenda - then I suppose we should adjourn for now? Severus and I will keep everyone apprised on the Grangers' situation, especially you, Hermione, and we'll meet again in a week or earlier if the situation warrants."

There was no disagreement, and the meeting was quickly concluded. Mrs Weasley hung back for a moment as though she wanted to talk to Hermione some more, but Mr Weasley gently but firmly ushered her away, saying, "Hermione, we've left some of your things from the Burrow in the living room for you - Molly thought you might be wanting them, and we'll send the rest to you tomorrow."

Snape and Moody remained for a while after everyone else had left, talking to Harry in a far corner of the kitchen in low voices. Hermione could not make out their words, and she wasn't about to interrupt.

It left her and Ron at the table alone.

There was an obvious discomfort between them; Hermione knew her own discomfort came from knowing what she had done to Ron before she left. It had been wrong of her, and she knew that now, but at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. The safe thing. And Ron seemed as uncomfortable around her as she was around him - was it due to the fact that he'd seen her with Harry this morning? Whatever the reason, the tension between them was unbearable, and when it looked like Snape and Harry and Moody would continue their conversation for quite some time, she quickly excused herself and gathered up her things from the living room, taking them to the third, unoccupied bedroom at the end of the hall.

She wasn't even sure if Harry wanted her to stay here, really. It wasn't as though anyone else was using this room - and where else would she go? Her parents' house was definitely out, and it felt strange to even contemplate living at the Burrow again if Harry or Ron weren't there and with Ginny still at school, but it wasn't as though Harry had asked her to move in, either. She'd just assumed....

"Hermione?"

Ron was at the door with a box balanced on his knees. "You left this in the living room. It was the last thing, I thought maybe you'd just missed it and you might want it."

"Thanks," she said, taking the box from him and putting it on top of her trunk, which she'd put at the foot of the bed out of habit. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and look at him, she felt so guilty. I have to tell him what I've done, she thought, fiddling with the flap of the box-top. "Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I really need to talk to you," she said. "I don't think it can really wait anymore."

Ron let out a deep breath, and when she turned around he was rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the floor. "Yeah... I really need to talk to you too," he said, then added softly, "everything's so fucked up."

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, which put her at about eye level with Ron. The last time she remembered him looking this anxious was before his first Quidditch match in their fifth year. She'd kissed him then, on the cheek, to cheer him and distract him and wish him luck, but somehow she didn't think that would help very much now.

"Please let me say what I need to say, Ron, because if I don't now, I might not get the nerve to, later," she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she kept talking, not giving him a chance to get a word in. "I've done something horrible - Ron, I didn't mean to do it. I don't know why, but the night before I left to go back, I-"

"Stop," said Ron, shaking his head. "Don't say it. I know."

"No, you don't," Hermione said. "You don't understand."

Ron's hand rested on her knee then, and he looked up at her, face pale under his freckles. "I know, Hermione. I know about the kiss and the Memory Charm and - I know, okay?"

Oh. She closed her eyes, hot guilt bubbling up in her stomach. "How?"

"Because I told him," said Harry.

Hermione's eyes snapped open at that. Harry hesitated in the doorway for a moment, biting his lip, and then came and sat beside her on the bed. Ron let his hand fall away from Hermione's knee.

"Harry?" Her voice was squeaky, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "How did you - what - "

"I saw it, Hermione," said Harry. "When I woke up and you weren't there, I had to see where you were, and I found you in Ron's room." He looked up from his hands, folded in his lap, and caught her eye. "I saw you kiss him, and then wipe his memory."

"And then you told Ron."

"Harry showed me in his Pensieve," said Ron softly. "It wasn't till after you were supposed to come back and didn't, and he thought..."

"I thought he should know," said Harry.

Hot tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I did it - I think I was scared I might not make it back and I wanted to say goodbye but I didn't know how and I didn't think, I shouldn't have kissed you - I'm sorry, Ron. Please believe me..."

Ron looked as if he'd been hit in the stomach. "Hermione - don't say you're sorry for that. Don't. I'm not angry that you kissed me."

"You're not?"

He shook his head slowly. "I... no. I'm not." His voice dropped so low that Hermione could barely hear him, and his words were rough around the edges. "But, Hermione, you Obliviated me." He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he was about to add something else, but no sound came out and he finally gave up and looked at his knees.

"I was scared, Ron," she replied, feeling like it was an incredibly weak excuse; but what other explanation could she offer? "I thought I'd messed everything up with us again, after we'd just fixed it all, and I didn't want to leave like that. I thought if I could make it like it had never happened, everything would stay the same and it would be okay."

"But you took that from me, Hermione, without asking," said Ron, looking up at her. "It was my memory, and it wasn't your place to decide whether I should keep it or not. If you hadn't come back -" Ron choked on that, "- that would have been my last memory of you."

"I'm sorry." Hermione didn't know what else to say.

"I know," said Ron. "You don't do things unless you think it's the right thing to do, so I know you meant well... I... I don't know how I feel about it really. The Obliviating, I mean. I'm not angry, but I - I don't know."

"I shouldn't have kissed you," she said.

"Please don't say that, Hermione. Don't. Don't be sorry for it. I'm not angry about it," said Ron.

"Neither am I," said Harry carefully.

Hermione shifted on the bed a bit so that she could see Harry and Ron both. "You aren't?" she asked.

Harry got up, pacing back and forth a few steps, and she could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to collect his thoughts. "See... the thing is... I had a really hard time while you were gone. These headaches - nothing would make them stop. I tried potions, and we got some Muggle drugs from your mum and dad, and I even drank, but nothing really helped. It was worse than in school, even, before I started Occlumency. Nightmares, too. I couldn't do anything, I had to stop Auror training, and I was - fucked up. Really fucked up. And Ron, he was sort of looking out for me, you know? Like he always has, except - some things happened we didn't really expect."

Hermione looked between the two of them, not understanding. "What sort of things?"

Ron's face was red now, and Harry looked embarrassed - and that's when it clicked into place. The small touches between them, the way Harry had confused her with Ron when she'd slid into bed with him last night, the extreme tension between them when they were all in the same room together.

"Oh," she whispered.

"But it's over," said Ron quickly, not looking at either of them. "Things were mad and we didn't know if you'd ever come back. Harry was missing you something fierce and the Voldemort stuff and - "

"That's not all it was, Ron," Harry broke in.

"I'm not going to let you fuck up what you've got with her, Harry," said Ron. He'd clenched his hands into fists so tightly his knuckles were white. "How many ex-boyfriend best friends does a girl need?"

Hermione slid off the bed, stomping her foot in frustration. "Wait a minute! I'm not sure I'm understanding this all. You two have been... involved... or something, while I was away, and now it's over just because I'm back?"

"It's not right, Hermione," said Ron, looking slightly ill.

"It was," said Harry desperately. He looked back and forth between them with a kind of anxiousness Hermione hadn't seen before. "You both, you're like - you've been like family to me. Better than family even. I've always needed both of you - don't you see? Things are never right when we fight. You know that. You know that unless it's all of us, there's something missing. Haven't the last few years taught you anything?"

Part of Hermione knew Harry was right. Her best memories of the last seven and a half years were the ones with all three of them, together, doing more together than they ever could possibly do apart. But another part of her, the part of her she'd brought with her from her childhood, whispered they did this without you... did they ever really need you? To which her more rational side replied, how do you really feel about them? You've never wanted to choose - you didn't have to choose, it was circumstance.

"I'm being selfish, I know," Harry said quietly. "I don't want to choose."

"It's not right," said Ron.

Harry looked at Hermione. "Why did you kiss him that night, Hermione? Was it really just to say good bye?"

She floundered, trying to find a reason that would make sense. "I - no - but - I just felt like I should, I didn't think about it - "

"You just did it because it felt right," Harry broke in. He turned to Ron before she could reply to that and said, "When you saw Hermione and me last year, and you thought we were together - who were you really jealous of? Were you angry because you thought I was with Hermione? Or were you angry because you thought Hermione was with me?"

Ron's jaw dropped, looking as if he'd been hit over the head with something very heavy. "That's - fuck, Harry, that's a load of rubbish - "

"Is it? I don't think so. I think you both know what I mean here," said Harry. "I'm not going to spell it out, and I won't mention it again except to say that if I have to wait for the both of you to figure it out - then I will."

"You can't be serious," said Ron, after a pause.

"I am," Harry replied. And he looked it, too - the determined set of his jaw and the straightness of his shoulders made it clear that Harry was absolutely certain of his words.

Hermione's knees wobbled, and she sat down hard on the edge of the bed. "I have to think about this," she said quietly.

"Then think about it," said Harry. "Please think about it. Just don't say no, at least not yet. And - I don't want to try to force it, but I - I don't know if I can hide how I feel from either of you. Because - " He bent down then, pressing his lips to Ron's without warning. Ron made a startled sound, muffled by Harry's mouth, and his hand moved up to Harry's chest as if to push him away; but instead, his fingers curled in the material of Harry's shirt, almost pulling him even closer. Hermione caught a brief glimpse of pink as Ron's tongue slipped into Harry's mouth, and her fingers gripped the bedspread tightly with the effort of trying to process the sight. And before Hermione could even make a sound or respond to this, Harry had broken off the kiss with Ron and his mouth was on hers and she could taste Ron's kiss on his lips, sweeter than any kiss she'd shared with Harry before.

It stunned her too much to respond, and after Harry pulled away it took her a moment to open her eyes and realise what had happened. Harry's shoulders slumped a little, as if his bravery had run its course, and he stepped back a little. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, dragging a hand through his rumpled hair. "I just had to make sure you knew."

Then he backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Ron stared at the door for a long time. "I have to think about this," he said, finally. "It just... it doesn't seem right."

"I know, Ron, you've said that twice already," Hermione snapped, and immediately regretting it when Ron bristled. "Look... I didn't mean that. I just don't really know what to think about this myself. I mean - you two - I never thought you might be - "

"Gay?" said Ron. "I don't like blokes. But Harry - he's not a bloke."

"He's just Harry," Hermione said.

"Yeah." There was a pause, and then he said, "What happens now?"

Hermione didn't know. There was nothing she'd ever read in any book that would have even remotely prepared her for this. "Maybe we should try to just keep things normal for the time being, until we've had time to think about it? We promised Harry we'd think about it, and we should."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Normal... like things have always been normal around here, yeah?"

Hermione giggled at that, and she felt a little of the tension between them ease. "As close to normal as we can manage, then," she said.

"Okay."

"And Ron," she added, "if you want - there's no hurry, really, but I don't want you to think that I don't want to go through with - I mean..." she faltered for a minute, knowing how touchy he was about the way she referred to his injury. "It's just that it'll take a while for the nerves to regenerate, and a while after that to get you on your feet again. You'll have to do lots of exercises and work and it'll be hard sometimes, so it's probably best that we get started as soon as possible. I didn't want you to think that I don't want to, after this, is all."

"Oh," said Ron, looking a bit surprised, and pleased, and even a little fearful all at once. "If you think you're up for it, then... yeah. I think we should. Maybe tomorrow, even? Only if you feel like it, I mean."

He sounded so tentatively hopeful, like someone who has wanted something for a long time and almost given up on wanting it, that Hermione said, "Yes. Tomorrow, we'll start."