Trophy Bride

She feels strange when she gets back to the common room. Sort of numb. Except her arm. Her arm is searing as if it has been caught on fire. And she thinks it has something to do with Draco.

The room is empty. She was hoping Harry might still be here. Sometimes he sleeps down here. Sometimes waiting for her to return from the library. Most of the time because of nightmares. He doesn’t want to wake the other boys.

I wonder if Ginny knows that about him.

She scolds herself for comparing herself to the redhead. This isn’t a competition. Because she isn’t a threat.

She considers going to Harry’s dorm to say goodnight, but decides against it. She feels too strange. She is sure he would be able to tell that something has happened.

--

The next morning at breakfast is awful. She tries to talk to Harry, but he and Ginny are engaged in a heated discussion of Seeking techniques. Since Ginny spent her fourth year subbing for Harry on the House team, she has something to go on.

What a perfect opportunity to start a conversation.

She would talk to Ron, but he is busy receiving doe-eyed looks from his girlfriend. None other than Luna Lovegood. Hermione had always thought he had had a crush on her, and is still almost certain she was right. But if he had, it had dissipated when it became clear that her feelings were for Harry.

She had always loved Harry. From her first year, when she had helped him find the Sorceror’s Stone. It had only gotten stronger through the years, and she hadn’t fully realized it until their fifth year. When he had come to Number 12, Grimmauld Place undernourished, under-informed and angry. She had wanted to hug him more at that moment than at any other in their past.

So when he asked her out during the summer before their seventh year, she had been thrilled. He had told her such sweet things. And then, he had kissed her. She can still remember that first kiss. The way it tasted, the way it felt. How incredibly desperate and hungry it seemed.

And she recalls, with sadness, that it was the only one of its kind.

Yes, their kisses are nice. But they are so . . . Boring? Apathetic?

Dispassionate?

She sighs out loud, but no one notices.

But, of course, when the bell rings, and it is time to make their way to Transfiguration, Harry’s hand slides easily into hers, and he matches her stride. As they walk, he places small kisses on her cheeks, and occasionally her neck.

And for the first time since their relationship began, it doesn’t feel good.

--

The text is swimming in front of her eyes. She has been reading for hours. Trying desperately to take her mind off of Harry. Off of Draco. Off of everything.

And up until now, she has been succeeding.

But now, the parts of the page that do make sense to her are about spells for unfaithful men.

That’s ridiculous. Harry is not unfaithful.

But, feeling disheartened, she closes the book heavily.

"Time to head back," she mutters to herself.

--

She tosses her cloak onto the floor beside her bed and begins to wriggle out of her school robes.

When she has her shoes and knee socks off, the urge to see Harry’s face flashes through her, so strong it hurts.

Brushing her hair back, she walks out of her dorm and to the boy’s dorms.

She knows by heart which room is his. She walks in without knocking, knowing well that everyone is probably asleep.

She crosses over to his bed and pulls back the scarlet curtains.

And presses a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

Because, next to Harry, her arms wrapped loosely around his waist and clad in ridiculously small nightclothes, is Ginny Weasley.