Geometry of Friendship

I felt like a traitor when it first happened. No. Strike that. I felt like a traitor when I first realized it. But a traitor to whom?

*~*

I knew in our fourth year. Of course, there had always been that tension between us. I always thought it was just fighting or quarreling until the Yule Ball.

Ah, the night of epiphanies, if you want to use poetic terms. But I'm not a poet. I like logic. And, logically, until a month ago, everything made perfect sense. The tension between two quarreling children turned teenagers turned young adults quickly became sexual tension between friends turned... Right.

So I knew in fourth year that I was destined to date Ron Weasley. And I can't say that I regret a single fight, date, or kiss. He opened my eyes. Were it not for him, I would have stayed in that library many more hours than I did. I laugh because I still hear that voice in my head asking why that would be a bad thing. He taught me to ignore that voice. To go out and have fun. And that's exactly what we did. He opened my eyes to the world of fun and laughter. And I loved him for it. I love him for that.

I love Ron Weasley. I always will.

But I never was in love with him. Yet even that isn't completely right.

As much as it pains me to use her as a reference, Lavender has a very good description of the way I felt for Ron. I was in luv. Not love. Luv.

Love is wanting to be with that person, and only that person, "for as long as you both shall live," as the ceremony says. And while we dated, I did want to spend the rest of my life with Ron. In a way, I still do. Yet now, out of that blinding circle of love, luv, and sexuality, I see everything a little clearer.

Ron and I are best friends. Best friends because we've always been a part of that destined Dream Team. We were always part of a trio. A triangle. An equilateral triangle at first. But add teenage hormones into that equation and the bubbling potion swiftly transfigures the geometrical figure into an isosceles triangle; two sides equal. One left out on its own.

Harry was that lonely side for just over two years: from the summer after fourth year till my birthday during seventh year.

But we never actually left him on his own. The only times Ron and I ever left him and went off as a couple were at night, when Harry was busy with extra Quidditch practices, or Hogsmeade weekends. Harry was never on his own then, either. He had some witch of his own, occasionally Ginny, to treat at Hogsmeade.

The three of us were too close, too in tune with each other to ever have some dramatic blowup... a fight where Ron demands more time alone with me. Ron and I understood when was "us" time and when was "trio" time. We understood that helping our fated best friend save the world and save his own skin was more important than some snog in the astronomy tower. Out of character for a teenager?, one may ask. True. But Harry, Ron, and I aren't average teenagers. Death matures 'children' like that.

And so two years swiftly passed. I gave Ron his first kiss. (Krum had kissed me goodnight at the Yule Ball: a pleasant first kiss for a fourteen year old, if I do say so myself.) Harry had his first real kiss from a flustered Ginny after his fifth year encounter with Voldemort. Both still refuse to talk about it. Malfoy gets upset when anyone talks about that "accident" between his now girlfriend and "Bloody Potter." It's quite amusing to tease all three of them, actually.

And I know what many think, reading this confession of mine. "Hermione.. teasing someone?" But I've grown up. If a person only knew the first through fourth year versions of myself, he wouldn't believe they're the same as the present Hermione. And I owe that all to Ron.

He was that essential reagant. He was that key to my development. He helped make me whole. Of course, I like to think that I played my own role in his path to maturity, and due to the fact he actually studied for his NEWTs on his own... I think I did.

Now, don't think that I've completely turned around and throw dungbombs during Potions class. I still take copious, neat notes, turn in extra scrolls of work, and chastise Ron and Harry when they don't seem to care about schoolwork.

But they, especially Ron, taught me that it's okay to leave the quill at the desk once in awhile. To laugh at Neville's purple toad, Peeves' latest prank, and Crabbe and Goyle's latest sparring disaster. And Ron taught me to love.

I'm sure that he never knew what I know now. I'm sure that he never could believe it would turn out like this. And who could have?

I was always the loyal one. Sticking up for Ron to Malfoy in spite of the "Mudblood" comments. Sticking by Harry's side during the Triwizard tournament fiasco. Always the bookworm to find that necessary clue. Who knew that with one simple look, I would turn traitor. Or, rather, realize that I had been a traitor to their hearts the entire time.

This is what happened.

It was my birthday. Harry had given my gift, a small diary enchanted with the perfect locking spell. With the gift came some homework to find the unlocking spell, which not even Harry knew. However, he's purchased the book of spells that contained it, as the shop owner had assured him. It was perfect. A mystery for me to figure out and something that could hold my dearest memories.

Ron's gift was a night alone with him. Though it seems selfish of him, it wasn't. It was just what I needed, as I had been spastic lately about being in my final year at this beloved second home of mine. Harry had helped plan the entire night, making it a surefire night to ourselves. Our first night completely, utterly on our own in two years, hard as it is to believe.

We had dinner, which Mrs. Weasley had made and somehow snuck into Hogwarts. (I still believe Hagrid had something to do with it.) The night was perfect. Candles, cake, and many kisses and "I love you"s.

Yet as we ate dinner, we were strangely silent. Anyone who knows either of us can see why that's strange. Two opinionated people (often with confliction views) sitting with nothing to say. I folded my napkin in my lap, looking up at him, and he clanked his fork onto his plate. We smiled at each other. I still remember that adorable smirk of his. Of course, I still see it, just minus that lusty love shine it had that night. I blushed, and we both looked down.

I remember pursing my lips, suddenly awkward and spoke, yet with a strangely masculine voice. "I wonder what Harry is doing right now..."

It took a second or two to realize we had spoken at the same time. There was this silence between us both, eyes locked on each other. And I understood. And felt extraordinarily guilty. I had been a traitor all this time. To both of my best friends.

You see, Ron and I understood that though we had been the two matched sides, the perfectly aligned angle, our only real connection was Harry. Had there been no "Boy Who Lived" as our mutual best friend, there would have been no Ron and Hermione friendship. He was our sole connection. True, that mutual acquaintance and spawned a friendship and relationship greater than any besides the one with Harry, but without him, we were nothing.

If we tried to forget this instant, this realization, and go on in life, get married like everyone thought, and have dozens of red-haired geniuses, it would be empty. Always feeling out of place. Ron and I wouldn't know each other without Harry. It was strange that it took us finally being able to be intimate to know that there was no intimacy at all.

I'm sure I make no sense. And where does this treachery come in?

After we had left the dinner in silence, without a kiss, just our ever-present hug, I went to my room and wept. How could I have done it? Lived a two-year lie? Convinced my best friend and myself that I was in love with him? I sat there... thinking about my connections... with Ron... with Harry. And I realized that it was what had to happen.

Ron had to open my eyes. Let me see that there was more to life than birth, school, and death.

And then I wondered about Harry. Where did he come in? I thought of him down at breakfast each morning. As Ron and he had waited for me to rush down each morning at the steps, I'd kiss Ron good morning and smile at Harry. Nothing had ever been strange. But after that night, I saw. I saw how Harry had just smiled back with a look on his face. Not sad or angry... just... patient. At first, I thought it was impatience. A "Why must you always show affection in front of me?" But it was patience. He knew that that birthday dinner would happen. Not necessarily when it did, but someday. He knew us better than we did ourselves.

And so I made up my mind after washing the tears of realization from my face. I walked down to the common room and faced the best friend I knew would be waiting there.

*~*

"Harry?" Hermione asked timidly, clutching a book over her breast like she had a tendency to do when feeling awkward

He turned towards her with a smile, a Quidditch book in his hand. Wordlessly, they made room on the couch for each other, legs parallel to each other, separated by a few inches. Critical inches.

"I see you already figured out that locking spell, then?" Harry's eyes never left his book.

"Yes," Hermione said quickly, not sure how to handle the situation. She had approached him surely, but somehow sensed he had control now.

"You must have had plenty to share with it tonight." Their eyes, peeking out of their corners, still feigning to read their respective books, met and held.

"I did. But I still want to talk to you about it," she said, slightly turning to look at his reaction more thoroughly.

He nodded slowly. She knew he didn't need to know anything else. Doubtlessly Ron had told him everything, and she was right. Harry opened his mouth to speak, pausing briefly to let her stop him, then said, "Is it really a surprise?"

She laughed. "Well I didn't really expect to break up with my boyfriend of two years on my birthday! I was more expecting to have an evening of romance and snogging!"

He smiled, "Funny, Ron said the same thing... only--"

"Right," she interrupted, understanding. She met his eyes, and the mood turned somber once again. "So you weren't surprised?"

He looked off to his right for a moment, then turned back to her, eyes blinking as they met hers. He shook his head with an air of certainty. She sighed.

"I'm so glad you understand." She fell back into the couch as his eyes followed her.

She had her eyes shut lazily, and he watched her. She had complicated things for him, he understood that now. It would be a lot harder to---

"Harry?" The voice came from boys' dorms. It was Ron. Hermione's eyes flew open in surprise, but not fear. Footsteps were heard flying down the staircase. Harry stood, but Hermione sat still, completely hidden from Ron.

"Harry, I know this is going to sound bloody mad, but listen to me. I'm not upset at all about tonight. I don't know why or how or... anything, but I do know this. I love Hermione. And you know that. But she's my friend. My best friend, other than you of course mate. And... well, I love you, though don't get any ideas." His voice pitched and cracked a bit, his attempt at humour nearly failing through his emotions. He was rambling now. "But I can't hold a candle to you, Harry. You... you fill both of our lives so completely. And there... there just isn't room in her, Harry, for us both."

Harry was completely taken aback. Hermione was staring at the fire in front of her, but could feel his speechlessness and confusion.

"Harry, I know you love her. Hell, they are the same reasons that I love... loved her. But I was some extended fling. A... a... useful tool for her to grow up with and cling to." He laughed, "She'd call it a prologue!" then fell to his emotions again. "A prologue to reality.. to real love.

"Mate, I know this all sounds like a St. Mungo patient's prattle, but listen to me. You guys fit perfectly. Us... we fell together. I mean, I think that it was..."

"I understand, Ron," Harry interrupted. Ron saw him look down and to his left. "I understand, perfectly..." he whispered.

And then Ron realized it himself.

"Oh, shit, she's right there isn't she?"

Hermione stood to face him, meeting his eyes. An awkward silence. Then she smirked. "For once, Ron Weasley, you figured it out before me..."

They all laughed, and Ron flopped over the side of the couch. That night, none of them slept. Instead they joked and talked, all feelings of tension between them gone.

Except for the lingering looks between Harry and Hermione.

~*~

That morning at breakfast, though the no one but us knew, it was obvious something had changed. Ron was still joking, Harry still laughing at the corny punch lines, and I was trying not to choke on my food through giggles, shooting daggers at the pair's crude humour. But it felt natural. We weren't what we were years before. We were what we had become under the shell we had hid under.

We were comfortable. There was only one thing left to do.

After Ron had sprinted to the dorms, as the excitement and reactions to the night before had caused him to forget some assignments, I looked at Harry. "Harry, can we talk?"

"Sure," he said, dropping his napkin to the table.

I smiled and said, "No... it will take longer than the two minutes we have to rush to class, Harry. It's about--"

"I know." He smiled back at me, and I knew that everything would be alright.

Ron burst back into the nearly empty Great Hall and yelled, "Come on you prats! We're behind Slytherin already! Do you want McGonagall deducting more points for all three of us being late?"

Surprisingly not embarrassed at being 'caught,' we grabbed our packs and sprinted to catch Ron.

~*~

That night, we talked. I don't remember any of the conversation. We just... understood each other. All this time, Harry had been waiting. And I felt so guilty for never fully realizing it. And guilty that I had somehow known that there was something there for Harry while I was with Ron. I love them both so much, and it seemed like I had only hurt both of them.

And now it all made sense. Harry and I were meant to have this conversation. He was the only one to soothe that guilt. The only one who could understand. And that's when my logic kicked in. I knew that this conversation was meant to happen (divination be damned), and so Ron and I were meant to be. But not to last. So why?

And I looked at Harry. At that smile. And I thought about the way I felt. I felt myself, natural, and happy in a way that I had never been. I felt exposed. Like Harry could see everything in me. And he could. And I was scared. And I wanted him to be with me and cover up that nakedness, forever.

And that, dear journal, is how I realized that I was meant for Harry Potter.

We didn't jump each other in that instant. True, he loved me in that way, and I knew I was meant for him. But we weren't ready. This Hogwarts time, it was Ron and mine. Even though we were over, this place, this surreal dream of adventurous life, was still ours. And it made sense. I was at home with Ron, just like I was at home at Hogwarts. But it wasn't to last. Only seven years at Hogwarts... two in Ron's arms. But it was something to remember and treasure. And build off of.

And I knew I would. With the love of life and capacity for love both that I'd learned from Ron, I could be with Harry. And make it work. Without either relationship, I would have been unhappy, torn, incomplete.

Harry and I still have a long way to go. It's now March. And only a few months separate us from the goodbye to this dream life. Nothing has happened between the two of us. And the only that has changed between the three of us is that I don't kiss Ron in the morning, and all of us to Hogsmeade together.

But I still see that patient look on Harry's face in the morning. And, finally, I understand.