For a Friendship

For a Friendship

If Professor McGonagall caught him, she'd kill him.

Well, okay, Harry thought - maybe he was being a bit pessimistic. She'd probably just turn him into a Chihuahua or something. But she wouldn't be happy. Harry had a strong hunch that what he was doing was against several school rules. But, he mused, some things needed to be done.

It had been such a wonderful day, and, despite his natural modesty, Harry felt a certain pride in the fact that it was thanks to him that Gryffindor had beaten Ravenclaw in the Quidditch match that afternoon, putting them possibly on course for overall victory that year. From the party that was taking place in the Gryffindor common room, you'd certainly think they'd already won.

And yet here he was, jeopardising his very future at Hogwarts, climbing up the stairs to the third year dormitory.

The third year girls' dormitory.

But then, some things needed to be done.

Tentatively, he pushed open the dormitory door and crept into the room. Hermione was lying on her bed where she appeared to have collapsed, too exhausted even to change out of her robes. She was surrounded by the various books she needed to read to keep up with her hectic timetable this year. One of them lay open in front of her.

Harry tiptoed over to her bed, and tapped her gently on the shoulder. She stirred slightly. "Whassamarrer?" she slurred.

"Hermione," he whispered gently. "It's me."

Blearily, Hermione shook herself awake. "Wassup? Is it morrin' already?" Her face was red and blotchy from tears.

"No, I just wanted to talk."

"What about?" Hermione asked grumpily. "I need to get some sleep." She forced herself to sit up in bed and looked at her watch. She groaned. "Do you know what time it is?"

Ignoring this, Harry sat down beside her, saying urgently, "it's about you and Ron."

Hermione shot him a filthy look.

"I'm serious!" Harry insisted. "You two are my best friends at Hogwarts." He thought about this for a moment. "No, you're my best friends anywhere, and if it wasn't for you I don't think I'd've been able to cope the last two summers at the Dursleys', and I hate seeing the pair of you fighting like this."

"I'm not fighting. Ron started it."

"Actually, no - Crookshanks did," Harry muttered.

"Oh, that's great," said Hermione. "Take his side, why don't you."

"I'm not taking anybody's side!" Harry hissed, exasperated. "Just please try to see Ron's point of view. Scabbers has been his pet for the past twelve years, and now it looks as if Crookshanks has killed him."

"Cats kill rats. It's what they do."

"That's not the point. The point is, he's fond of Scabbers."

"I can't see why," said Hermione. "Dirty mangy little thing."

"Are you fond of Crookshanks?" asked Harry.

Hermione thought about this question. "Well...yes," she said eventually.

"There you go, then," Harry shrugged. "How would you feel if a dirty big dog scared Crookshanks for a few months and then killed him?" (Harry bit his lip, thinking of the "dirty big dog" that had been scaring him these last few months...and hoped that it wasn't going to kill him, despite Professor Trelawney's predictions.)

"Alright," Hermione conceded. "I wouldn't like it."

"Exactly. I don't think Ron means to blame you, but try to understand that he's...well, that he's upset, and sensitive."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but..." Hermione seemed to be having difficulty working out what to say. Eventually, she said, "I'm upset too." She seemed to be struggling to hold back tears. "I don't want to be fighting with Ron, I just can't seem to stop it." At this, she broke into tears, and held onto Harry as she sat there, crying onto his shoulder. Feeling more than a little embarrassed, Harry hugged her in an attempt to offer comfort.

They sat like this for several minutes, until Hermione's sobs subsided. They could hear the sounds of the celebration downstairs, but they ignored it and stayed in silence. Then Hermione let go of Harry and sat up. "I must look a total mess," she said. Looking around, she added unhappily, "my bed certainly does."

Harry held out his hand to her, meaning to pat her on the back. Instead, it brushed lightly against her wrist. As it did so, he had a strange feeling, as if his stomach had leapt into his mouth. It was a feeling he'd already had that day, when he'd first seen Cho, the Ravenclaw seeker. For a moment, he stared at Hermione, puzzled and confused. Her brown eyes stared back at him. Then - and Harry wasn't sure whether he'd started it, or she had, or they both had - they leaned towards each other and kissed, Harry's tongue tentatively exploring the inside of Hermione's mouth.

It was over as suddenly as it had begun. They pulled apart from each other. "I...erm...I mean..." Harry stammered. He shook his head to clear it. "I'm sorry, that was...I mean, I shouldn't..."

Hermione held his hand for a moment. "It's okay," she said smiling. "But I think you'd better go now."

Harry leapt from the bed as if he'd been stung, and ran back down to the common room, fear and embarrassment surging through him. As he did so, he realised with a shock that although he'd been kissing Hermione, in his mind's eye it had been Cho that he'd pictured sitting next to him.

After Harry had left the dormitory, Hermione picked up her books, dumped them onto the floor next to the bed, and settled down to a restful sleep. As she did so, she realised with a shock that although she'd been kissing Harry, in her mind's eye it had been Ron that she'd pictured sitting next to her.