The Art of Triangles

Chapter 1: Things That Go Bump in the Night

Harry pulled the covers up to his chin and squeezed his eyes shut. It was nearly midnight and the moonlight cast an eerie glow through his bedroom window. A gust of wind caused the trees outside to rustle and his eyes popped open. His senses were notably heightened. He strained to hear the softest creak of the hallway floor outside his room, but the night was - and had been, for that matter, quiet. As he lay staring at the ceiling he realized, with a bit of embarrassment, that he was disappointed; wholly and utterly disappointed. He rolled over and faced the wall, trying again to screw his eyes closed. Life had certainly had its twist and turns for Harry Potter in the past. He was immensely thankful to have finally found a state of normalcy. Voldemort was a distant nightmare. Hogwarts had reopened under Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and the school itself had returned to its pre-ministry-infiltrated safe haven. Those whom had lost their lives in the climatic final battle had been properly laid to rest. After a brief stay at The Burrow - upon Mrs. Weasley's orders -, the trio decided to move into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the summer. As much as Harry had enjoyed his time over the years with the Weasley's, living in The Burrow he felt he was overstaying his welcome. The war was over and Harry had a house waiting, empty, in his name. Not just any house, but that of his godfather. A new chapter of his life was beginning and Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had seemed like the perfect setting. He wasn't overly surprised when Ron and Hermione voiced their concerns about him living there alone and he quickly offered them each a bedroom. All N.E.W.T.S. and O.W.L.S. were being post-poned until next year and the threesome was planning on returning to Hogwarts and finishing their seventh and final term in the fall. Until then, they were all enjoying their new living arrangements.

Some time around the second week after they had moved in, Harry had been sleeping soundly in his second floor bedroom when he was awoken by a soft knock at his door. He had been deep in a dream where he was facing Voldemort in King's Cross and the knock had jolted him awake. Harry had sat straight up and grabbed his wand defensively out of habit before a small muffled voiced had said "Harry? It's Hermione. Can I come in?" Harry had of course invited her in, but was secretly hoping he could answer whatever question she had for him quickly or dodge one of her long rants and get back to sleep. He remembered she had looked small standing there in the darkness of his bedroom and uncharacteristically unsure. She told him, sheepishly, that she felt silly, but she was having terrible nightmares and couldn't sleep a wink. Harry hadn't been able to say a word before she'd crossed the room and slipped into bed next to him. "I hope you don't mind. If you want me to leave I will" she had whispered. Harry had just shaken his head no, but his brain had been firing a million times a minute. While Hermione spent the rest of the night in a deep sleep, Harry had been wide awake. He had squished himself as close to the wall as possible, so as to keep any part of their bodies from touching. He had finally managed to fall asleep out of pure exhaustion as the sun was rising. A few hours later another knock at the door made him jolt awake again. In a split, horrifying second he imagined Ron walking into the room and seeing Hermione and him in bed together. Harry felt disoriented, but quickly noticed he was alone. A bit confused, he had rolled out of bed, crossed the room rubbing his eyes and opened the door. Ron was waiting in the hall. "Hermione's made lunch, mate. It's noon; you feeling alright?" Harry had nodded and said he'd be down in a minute.

Harry had spent the day convincing himself that Hermione's mysterious visit had been a dream. There was no indication she had ever been in his room and she didn't once mention it. He would have completely pawned it off on a bad bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans too close to bed time, except that later that night she came to him again! The second time she had simply let herself in and climbed into the bed next to him without saying a word. Harry had pretended to be in a deep sleep. Again in the morning she was gone; never leaving any trace that she had ever been there.

Now, a month later, Harry lay in bed waiting for her. Three or four times a week she would slide into bed next to him and although they never spoke, something had changed. Harry no longer flattened himself against the wall. In fact, sometimes he pulled her up against his chest to feel the warmth of her body. He wasn't sure how this had exactly happened, but over the weeks it had. Something else had changed as well, something that caused a tickle in his nether regions when his arm grazed her chest or she wriggled against him in her sleep. A small spark that had ignited the first night she slipped between his covers had grown into a raging fire over the past month. The only thing keeping the flames at bay was an image of Ron sleeping alone in his room oblivious to the weekly slumber parties. And then, of course, there was Ginny. Although they hadn't really resolved things, Harry cared a lot about her and knew she cared about him too. Harry also quickly realized he had no idea how Hermione was feeling or what she was thinking, because she never acknowledged that her secret visit had occurred. Questions plagued Harry's brain, leaving him restless most nights and exhausted most days. Perhaps Hermione really was just having nightmares and didn't want to sleep alone. After all they'd been through, who could blame her? But why, he wondered endlessly, wouldn't she go sleep with Ron? "They spent most of the bloody day flirting anyway" thought Harry bitterly. Maybe she felt more comfortable sleeping with Harry because they WERE just friends. Maybe she felt she would be pressured or uncomfortable sleeping with Ron, because they were feelings between them. And, what if the nights that she didn't show up in Harry's room she WAS sleeping with Ron. An unexpected wave of jealousy washed over Harry and he tried to swallow it down without acknowledging it. After a few more seconds of staring at the ceiling Harry kicked the covers off and sat up. He would wait ten more minutes. If she didn't come to him, he would just simply go to her, simple as that. He could have nightmares too he thought with a huff.