The Last Time

Chapter 19

Hermione tried to tell herself that the chill that filled Gryffindor Tower that winter was due to the cold Scottish wind and rain, and not to the icy demeanour of her House mates, but she knew it wasn't so. Somehow, the entire House had found out about the incident. She highly doubted Ron would go around advertising what he perceived as a humiliating betrayal by his girlfriend and best friend, and Ginny was no gossip, so she assumed one of the Creeveys or Natalie McDonald had overheard and said something.

And like the news about Harry's near-death experience months before, the Gryffindor rumour mill spread the story throughout the school like wildfire.

She might as well have sewn a scarlet "A" onto her robes for all the stares and snickers she received. Everywhere she went it seemed someone was whispering, staring, or pointing at her. Dean and Seamus looked away uncomfortably whenever she came near; and Lavender and Parvati, who she usually got on fairly pleasantly with, were quite snooty and cold to her, and began to fawn over Ron over every chance they got. Apparently being dumped in such a tragic fashion gave him a new-found romantic appeal the girls had never noticed before. It was worse, much worse than the Rita Skeeter articles, because while those stupid articles had been completely false, these accusations has just enough truth to be damning - she had been in Harry's bed, and they had been cuddled up together, and it did look very bad. No one could believe that two seventh-years had been in bed together all night long in a practically deserted dormitory without doing something.

Only three people believed her.

One was Neville Longbottom. He continued to talk to her as if nothing unusual had happened, coming to her with schoolwork problems as he'd occasionally done in the past and ignoring the stares of Dean and Seamus and Ron.

It surprised her. Nearly everyone else in the castle considered her the wizarding equivalent of Hester Prynne, (not that many of them would have a clue who that even was,) and she'd just assumed Neville would be the same. She asked him about it as they studied in the library one afternoon.

"You wouldn't do that." Neville shrugged, hiding his blushing face in his Potions textbook. "You're a good person. So is Harry." He said this as if it was a plain statement of fact, like Hagrid likes ferocious animals, or Snape has greasy hair.

The second person was Ginny. Hermione expected her to take Ron's side, since he was her brother and she and Ginny weren't even really close friends. She also had suspected from the moment they met that Ginny Weasley had a massive crush on Harry. So, she anticipated Ginny would be furious and upset with the both of them. Especially because after Ron had stormed out of the dormitory, Ginny had followed him without a backwards glance.

Two days later, though, Ginny had come to her room and let her cry on her shoulder.

"Hermione, just give Ron time. He's embarrassed. When he gets embarrassed, well...he gets stubborn."

"He's never going to believe me, Ginny," she blubbered. "And now, he - he hates Harry too, and it's all my fault."

Ginny sighed. "Right now, yes, I think he does hate you both," she said. "But deep down, he loves you."

"Do you believe us, Ginny?"

"I do," said Ginny. "To be honest, at first, I didn't. I mean - er - considering what it looked like - you were in the bed, after all. But I just don't think that you - or Harry - would do that to Ron. You're such good friends to him."

That just made Hermione feel worse - which didn't make any sense.

Of course, besides Neville and Ginny, the only other person who believed her was Harry himself. It was obvious that the loss of Ron's friendship hurt him badly, though he didn't complain, but kept telling her that Ron would get over it and all would be fine. She could tell he didn't really believe it, no matter how many times he said it.

Harry was having as bad a time as she was; everyone who pointed and whispered at her did it to him as well. Their first Potions class of the new term was mortifying. Ron made a big show of not sitting with Harry and Hermione, instead parking himself between Dean and Seamus and steadfastly refusing to look in their direction. Malfoy took great pleasure in taunting Harry, calling him "The Boy Who Shagged His Best Mate's Girl," and Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan were very nasty to him in Herbology. Harry told her that Ron sat with Parvati and Lavender in Divination, joking and laughing with the two girls as if Harry wasn't even there, and Quidditch practices were hellish. Ron never spoke to him, and if he had to refer to him when speaking to their teammates, he just said "the Seeker".

Complicating the matter even further, it seemed like Harry and Hermione were always together, reinforcing the impression that there was something going on. If they weren't preparing for the next round of Auror Trials (which were coming up at the end of February), they tried to avoid each other, because the stares and whisperers were worse when they were anywhere near each other in public. But Hermione hated it, because she didn't have anyone else to talk to, other than Neville and Ginny. While she liked Neville and Ginny very much, and was grateful for their faith in her, they weren't the same as having Harry and Ron around.

Slytherin played Ravenclaw the first Saturday in February, and most of the Gryffindors went to the game to cheer for Ravenclaw. Hermione didn't go. She couldn't care less about Quidditch unless Ron or Harry were playing. She spent the afternoon working in the practically deserted library. Work had been piling up, and the N.E.W.T.s were looming on the horizon.

"Mind some company?" Harry didn't wait for a reply, but dumped his books on the table and sat across from her.

"Sure." She scribbled away on an Arithmancy chart. "I thought you went to the Quidditch match."

He took out his Transfiguration textbook. "As much as I'd love to be there when Slytherin gets trounced this afternoon, it's not quite the same to sit in the stands alone."

"I guess not."

They worked for a while in silence.

Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott passed by them, giggling, and sat down at a table across the room and began to whisper.

"Do you two mind?" Hermione snapped. "Some of us are trying to do work here, you know."

"Whatever," said Hannah, winking at Harry.

"Stupid girls," he mumbled, turning red.

"Just ignore them," said Hermione.

A loud snort followed by a series of giggles came from the table where the two Hufflepuff girls sat.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

More giggles from the Hufflepuff table, where two sixth-years had wandered in and joined them. Hermione could hear little snippets of their conversation floating across the room.

" - well, what I heard was - "

"You're kidding!"

Hermione's face got hotter and hotter, and the numbers on her Arithmancy chart began to blur and spin before her eyes.

"No! And they were - "

"That's awful! Poor thing!"

Harry slammed his Transfiguration book shut and pulled out his Potions notes, mumbling under his breath.

" - well, I can't believe the nerve - "

" - thinks she can just - any boy in the - "

Snap. Hermione's fingers gripped her eagle feather quill so tightly it broke in half, spattering tiny drops of ink across her homework and ruining it.

" - not even pretty, if you ask me - "

" - why they'd want to fight over her - "

I can't listen to this rubbish anymore! Hermione grabbed her books, crammed them in her bag, and stormed out of the library. Why can't people just mind their own sodding business! Her eyes burned with tears of mortification and she quickened her steps, hoping to get back to her room without anyone else taunting her.

"Hermione! Wait!" Harry was running after her.

She didn't answer. Great! He's making a scene! Give the school something else to talk about, why don't you? Just go away, Harry.

The Quidditch match was apparently over, as the halls were crowded with people again, and she nearly knocked several people over in her haste. A crowd of Gryffindors was climbing into the portrait hole just as she arrived, and Hermione made a choked sort of noise at what she saw.

Natalie McDonald had her arm around Ron's waist, and they were laughing.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked, and dropped her book bag. Her inkbottle fell out and smashed on the floor, and books and papers went everywhere.

Ron jumped at the sound of breaking glass and went completely red when he saw Hermione, but didn't move away from Natalie. Natalie gave her dark hair a defiant toss.

Hermione bent to pick up her books and papers. Her bushy hair fell around her burning face like a curtain, blocking her view of everyone's stares. Didn't take him long to get over me, did it? He acts all upset and betrayed about something that didn't even happen, and now he's flirting with that - that little girl! Her hands shook as she shoved her ink-stained books and papers back into her bag and straightened up.

Harry skidded to a stop behind Hermione. "Hermione, are you - " He stared at Ron.

"Having a good time, are you?" said Ron coldly, looking at Hermione and then Harry. "Getting in a bit of studying?"

"You look like you're having a pretty good time yourself, Ron," she said, now shaking all over.

"At least I'm not hiding anything," he said, and turned to follow Natalie through the portrait hole.

Hermione gave a strangled sort of yell, threw her bag down, and launched herself at Ron, clawing and punching him with blind anger. He let go of Natalie and tried to push Hermione away, but Hermione wasn't about to let go. Everything she'd learned about fighting went straight out of her head in a fit of rage. There was not a coherent thought in her brain except I hate him, I hate him, I want to claw his eyes out and slap him senseless and I really hate him, and she swiped her close bitten nails across his face, leaving inky black scratches on his cheek. She wanted to scream at him, tell him off, but nothing came out but hoarse yells and gasping sobs as she pounded him furiously but ineffectively with her fists.

"Hermione! Get - off - me - " Ron grunted, making a futile attempt to catch her flailing arms.

Two arms grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides and pulling her off Ron. She twisted and turned and tried to break free, but the arms held her tightly and she couldn't get away. It was Harry.

"Hermione, stop it," he said in her ear.

"You let go of me right now!" she screeched, squirming madly. She tried to elbow him in the chest and stomp on his foot to force him to let her go, but he anticipated every move, and all it made him do was hold her more tightly.

Ron shot her a burning look and went into the tower.

Hermione shook in rage and humiliation. I've got to get away from here...let me go, Harry, please. Her few remaining functioning brain cells remembered an escape technique Professor Tenby had taught back at the beginning of the year, and she went limp in Harry's arms.

It worked.

Startled, he relaxed his grip slightly, and she broke away from him and ran down the corridor. He was right behind her, but she'd surprised him just long enough to get a bit of a head start. She ran as hard and fast as she could, her robes flapping around her legs and threatening to trip her. When she turned a corner too sharply she skidded and slammed sideways into the wall, but she pushed right off and kept running. She had no idea where she was going; she only knew that she wanted to get as far away from Gryffindor Tower and all its gossiping inhabitants as possible.

There was an empty classroom up ahead - she turned and ducked into it, meaning to slam the door, but Harry was right behind her and caught the door before it closed.

"Go away," she panted. She dug her heels into the floor, pushing against the door with all her might, but couldn't get any traction on the smooth stone floor.

Harry finally shoved the door open far enough to squeeze himself in. She tried to push him back out, but he grabbed her around the waist and held her very tightly. He was persistent, putting up with her kicks and bites and punches until they dissolved into tears, stroking her hair and back and arms and mumbling things she didn't understand in her ear. He held her until she was cried out and exhausted.

"I thought I told you to go away," she said into his shoulder, after a while.

"I remember several times when I told you to go away, and you didn't," he said mildly.

She made a sound that was part hiccup, part laugh, and part sob. Her legs hurt from running, and she sat down heavily on the floor. Harry sat beside her, and she leaned against him gratefully, pulling her feet up underneath her.

"I hate him," she said.

He flinched. "No, you don't," he said. "You're just angry."

"Do you blame me? I mean - that Natalie - "

"It could be innocent, Hermione. She's a teammate, after all. I've never seen them doing anything...er...inappropriate."

"Hmph." She thought Harry sounded a little doubtful and decided not to comment. The floor was cold; she wiggled closer to him and pulled her robes tighter around her body. "I acted like an idiot."

"Maybe a bit."

"You're not supposed to agree with me, you know." She pretended to hit him on the leg.

"Oh. Sorry. No, you didn't act like an idiot at all."

"That's better." She sighed. "I wish you hadn't pulled me off of him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? Pounding his face into the wall wouldn't have solved anything."

"So? He deserved it. Didn't take him long to get over me, apparently."

Harry muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch the beginning of, but ended with " - get over you."

"What?" She sat up abruptly and looked at him.

"Nothing," he said, looking away. "We should get back, you know."

"I don't want to go back."

"The longer we're gone, the more people will talk," he said reasonably.

"They're going to talk anyway. I don't care." But she knew he was telling the truth. He got up and helped her to her feet.

It was great to have Harry there to talk to. She was very glad he'd ignored her when she'd told him to go away. "Thanks, Harry," she said, and hugged him.

"We should go back," he said again, but didn't move away.

Her mind flashed back to the night of the Gryffindor post-game party when they had danced - how she had felt, well, strange, and had thought it was the butterbeer. She felt that way again, only this time there was no butterbeer.

Just Harry.

Hermione pulled back just a little, not sure what to do; their faces were very close together. She focused on the red and yellow stripes of his necktie that was hanging loose at his throat; she couldn't make herself look up at his face. She could almost feel his eyes on her.

She didn't know what made her do it, but tentatively, she pressed her lips to his.

He tensed up and moved back a step. "Hermione," he whispered.

She kissed him again, and this time he sighed and kissed her back, his hands moving up to tangle in her hair. She felt breathless and dizzy and giddy and excited all at once, like she could melt into the floor or float on a cloud; and she pressed her body to his, trying to be close to him as possible.

He groaned softly and cupped her face in his hands.

Kissing him felt wonderful, like someone had lit a fire in the pit of her stomach, sending heat and light through her whole body. "Harry - "

"Hermione, no - " He broke away with an obvious effort, shaking his head. "It's not right. You're upset - "

"I'm not upset!"

He took a deep breath and looked straight at her. "With everything that's happened with Ron..."

"I don't want to talk about Ron."

"I don't think you know what you want right now," he said.

The way he looked at her made Hermione want to kiss him again. "Do you know what you want, Harry?" she asked.

He bit his lip. "I don't think I should answer that, Hermione."

"Why not?" she asked.

"It wouldn't be a good idea," he said. His fists were clenched at his sides. "We need to go back. Right now. Please."

She didn't understand what was happening. In the space of an hour or two, she'd gone from being irritated at gossipy Hufflepuffs to furious at Ron to furious at Harry to - something else, possibly to do with Harry, and she hadn't a clue what. Things had been turned upside down and inside out and she didn't know which way was up.