Much Ado About Hermione

Chapter 16: Coming Clean

Hermione slowly walked back to the room, her footsteps feeling heavy as she made her way up the steps one at a time. She began to take deep breaths as the severity of the situation came back to her in a flash, causing her pulse to race and making hyperventilation a near possibility.

She quickly peeked her head through the door and took a glimpse of the young man; he was still on Harry's bed, his dark and narrowed eyes meeting hers. She moved back into the stairway and leaned against the wall. Looking down the steps into the common room, she heard Harry's footsteps, followed by the swing of the portrait hole.

Uneasiness quivered in her belly, causing her listless body to slide down the wall and land on the top step. She lowered her head and closed her eyes as she tried to drive away the debilitating sensations by telling herself she could cope with telling Ron the truth; and since he seemed somewhat subdued at the moment, she thought his reaction would not be as tempestuous as she had imagined.

Her eyes flashed open as she gave herself encouraging words that would prepare her for the upcoming task. But as she attempted to get up, she was pulled back onto the step. Her confidence seemed to have only been an illusion, as she was suddenly overcome by an unbearable urge to escape. She then imagined walking out of the castle like Harry had done and stepping into the beautiful spring day that had enveloped all the other students' spirits and minds.

As her gaze went back to the bottom of the staircase, she was suddenly reminded of the look on Harry's face when he had glanced over his shoulder at her. The emptiness in his eyes differed from his usually expressive stares. That and his inability to answer her question left her feeling puzzled and slightly insecure, as she was now forced to imagine the worst.

But she assured herself that things between her and Harry could always get mended that night in Hogsmeade; the task at hand was dealing with Ron. She finally got up from her seat and stepped into the room. He must have expected her to come back, she thought, because the stare that greeted her was unrelenting, causing her to stop at the entryway to reconsider her decision. She placed her hand against the wall to keep her jittery body from falling over.

Sure she would lose what little resolve she had left if she remained at the doorway, she began to walk around the room, giving herself an opportunity to escape the onslaught of his gaze and a chance to ease her nerves.

As she walked around the room, her head swiveled from bed to bed as she searched for a place to sit. She halted at Dean's bed, which was directly across from Ron. The location of the bed would allow them to easily talk to one another, but also left plenty of room between them so she wouldn't feel intimidated by his looming presence. But before she could make her final decision, she pondered whether the redhead would take offense if she sat so far away, leading him to believe she was deliberately trying to distance herself from him.

Hermione finally drew up enough nerve to make her way to the redhead's bed. She dared to look up at him, first observing his long outstretched legs, then his hands, which were folded in his lap. Her gaze continued to his face and lingered on those eyes that were still on her, giving her a hard unblinking stare that made her flinch and glance down at her hands. She was soon berating herself for choosing to sit in such close proximity to him.

As she moved around on the bed in search of a comfortable position, it began to squeak. She drew in a sharp breath, as that was the same noise she had become familiar with at the beginning of the year, when they would sneak into the dorms to be alone. She let her hand travel along the duvet, in search of that insufferable coil that used to prick the middle of her back as she lay there, his body on top of hers, pressing her into the mattress.

The last time that coil had left a mark on her back was when she had foregone her afternoon classes to be with him, the day she had initially suggested they sleep together. But she quickly changed her mind about going through with the act when she felt the hardness of him rubbing eagerly against her hips.

In the past, she had been successful in getting Ron to cease his actions, no matter how aroused he was. But that day, he proved difficult to control. He remained on top of her, begging and pleading with her to continue, as he moved his erection against her body in anticipation of the act he'd been yearning to complete for so long. It wasn't until her fist made contact with his face that he fully understood she was not ready for a sexual union - not with him anyways.

Harry, of course would not have acted like a sexual predator, she thought, recalling how he always asked if she was comfortable before he proceeded with his touching. She then looked over a Harry's bed, which also held intimate memories; however these recollections were very few since the couple preferred locations other than the dorms to conduct their amorous trysts.

Thoughts of Ron and Harry forced her to compare the varying methods either boy used when with her. Ron was definitely more wild and unrestrained, as his hands always seemed to move about her body in a feverish pace. Harry, on the other hand, always caressed her in a slow fashion, delighting all her senses as his hands and lips explored areas on her body which would have been bypassed by Ron and Krum - who always targeted the two most obvious places on her body: her breasts and groin.

She pondered where the green-eyed boy could have learned his technique, since he had only one known sex partner, besides herself. But she soon realized that Harry had probably learned those things from the books she had once seen in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. She glanced at that drawer, wondering if he would bring them with him to Hogsmeade – especially his Sensual Massage book. Her eyes closed as she imagined how wonderful his fingers would feel on her skin when they get together that night.

Thoughts of Harry gave her the strength to finally face Ron, as she was now prepared to tell him everything. Trying to appear confident, she gave him a determined look, while keeping her jaw clenched to keep her teeth from chattering. Although he had not moved from his position, his angry stare continued to sweep over her. She told herself not to glance up at him until she finished talking, for fear of losing her concentration and nerve.

"Harry was telling you the truth all along," she said. "We've been dating for about two months now. It'll be two months tomorrow." She now had to hide the pleasant look spreading on her face as she thought of the milestone. They had never discussed how they would celebrate the anniversary, but she assumed they would use that night at the hotel as a chance to commemorate the occasion.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she uttered. Having said those same words to Harry, her statement was devout of the sincerity she had intended to be there. "I meant to tell you myself, but I never got around to it."

A bored expression was now on Ron's face; he was clearly not impressed by her dull apology.

She took a deep breath, knowing she had to tell him the entire story. "I really couldn't have gotten through those months without your support." She looked him straight in the eyes this time, making sure to convey the sincerity that was in her heart. But she quickly glanced away as she wondered if her thanking him was truly a sincere act, or one done solely to assuage his anger. No matter her motives, her words clearly had the power that she had hoped, as his face had now softened from the rigid expression that was once there.

She closed her eyes as she talked about the events of that summer. She began by telling him how surprised she was by his declaration of love for her. In reality, she had inklings about his feelings well before that summer; her intuition told her his jealously of Krum dealt with far more than him being a world class Quidditch player. She often remembered how he would become obnoxious when around Krum, muttering offensive remarks under his breath about the Bulgarian man's thick accent, which forced her to give him a stern look or a swift kick in the shins.

Her tale then moved on to the beginning of the school year, when it had appeared to him - and those who had been witness to their romps - that they were a romantic couple. "I know I would sometimes hold your hand when we were walking down the halls," she began, thinking how this act was only done in halls where none of the students in their house - especially Harry - could see them, "but it was merely done as a show of friendship. It didn't imply we were in a relationship."

Soon Harry's bedsprings began to squeak. Hermione guessed her last statement had disturbed him. She wanted to glance up at him to see if he was glaring at her, as she knew he was, but she was able to fight off her urge.

"It doesn't mean that I didn't care about you," she said quickly, trying to repair the damage she believed her last comment had caused. "But in my mind, we were only close friends." Harry's bedsprings began to squeak once more; this time, they were accompanied by a slight noise that sounded as though he had snorted.

But she did not let that noise or any thing else he might have been doing disrupt her concentration. Her gaze was now lowered so much so that her eyes were almost closed. "I really didn't know the true extend of your affections for me until it was too late. But I was flattered by them."

As she talked about their amorous escapades in the boys' dorm, her own dorm, and anywhere else that seemed private, she tried to keep the pitch of her voice from getting too high, as it sometimes did when she became nervous.

"Those times spent in here," she began, her eyes wandering down to his bed, as an image of the two of them rolling on top of the duvet flashed into her mind, "were a mistake. I was not thinking about what I was doing and clearly let my hormones get the better of me."

She waited a moment, thinking that he would say something to her or make another noise; but he stayed quiet, not even moving on the bed. As she proceeded to talk about Harry, she lowered her head even more, knowing she would not be able to keep from smiling, which she did when talking about the green-eyed boy. "I had feelings for Harry all along, I just didn't realize it until later."

After a long silence, she uttered, "I love him." With those three words, she stopped talking, feeling she had conveyed everything to him.

She then kept her head lowered, as she anxiously waited for him to respond to all that had been said. She finally braved enough courage to look up at his face. His head was against the headboard, as he had resumed looking straight ahead once more, throwing her glances from the corner of his eyes. She leaned forward in an attempt to detect any signs of emotion on that seemingly serene face of his, but she observed nothing.

She was not accustomed to, and a little perturbed by his newfound quietude, as it was so unlike his normal behavior; he usually would have interrupted her repeatedly during her speech.

"What are you thinking?" she finally asked when the silence had become intolerable and her anticipation had grown too much her to bear. The hard look that he bestowed upon her at that moment caused her to regret her last statement. The coldness in those eyes forced her to cower back on the bed, as she prepared herself for the verbal lashing that she knew would shortly come her way.

"All this time," he finally said, "you didn't really love me?"

She heard the word `no' echoing over and over again in her head, but she thought it would be too harsh a statement to utter, as he would surely be crushed by such a declaration. Plus, she knew the word could not truly represent the complicated emotions she felt towards him. So she kept quiet, leaving him to interpret her silence any way he pleased.

The hard look in his eyes began to disappear, as she saw something flicker in their depths. He brought his hands to his head, wrapping his fingers around his vibrant locks of hair. "I can't believe this is happening to me. It seems like some sort of nightmare."

His hands lowered to his face, as his body hunched forward. Her heart squeezed as she heard the low tortured noises that soon escaped his mouth.

She immediately got up from the bed and approached him, her hands outstretched and ready to draw him into a comforting embrace that would hopefully relieve some of the pain he was experiencing. But she could not advance anymore, fearing he would not greet her show of affection with fondness, as she imagined him giving her a hard shove to the ground.

But she could turn away from that sight before her, which was very similar to when she had wept during her conversation with Harry. She had always thought how wonderful it would have been if Harry had given her a hug at that moment, or even a touch on the leg; any form of physical contact would have been happily greeted. However, she received nothing from the green-eyed boy, as he remained on the bed, staring down at her with a bewildered expression on his face.

Hermione sat down next to him and draped her arm about his body. But her arm was barely on his back for a minute before he pushed her away. Rejected, Hermione drew back and resumed her position on the redhead's bed; watching in fixed wonderment, as he remained in that reclined position, his chest heaving in and out in a dramatic pace. Soon, his wailing grew in intensity, reaching a fevered pitch.

A great desire grew within her to utter some words of encouragement to him, to reiterate how she and Harry never meant to hurt him, anything to cease his suffering. But she kept quiet, fearing her words would arouse him even more.

Gradually, the noise in the room began to diminish, and he stopped trembling. Ron sat up again and glanced at her. But then his eyes widened and his hands flew to his face, shielding his tear-drenched cheeks. He turned away, as if embarrassed she had been witness to his breakdown.

He continued to look away for a long time, causing her to wonder if she should vacate the room and give him time to himself; an act she would have happily done, as seeing him in that state was becoming too for her to bear.

Ron soon shifted his position on the bed and stared at her, ceasing any opportunities she had of escaping. "I can't believe you would do this to me," he muttered with a scratchy voice, sounding as if he would lose control of his emotions again at any given moment. "Did you sleep with him?" His swollen eyes began to search her face, as if trying to detect any slight changes in her expression that would give him an answer even if she did not respond.

Hermione hesitated answering the question. She had deliberately left out that small, yet important, piece of information while discussing her relationship with Harry. She at first thought of remaining quiet, or telling him it was not his business, but the look in his eyes told her he would not stop his questioning until he knew the answer. "Yes," she finally said.

He remained silence for a while, before dropping his head. "You told me I would be your first. I always imagined you and I would..." He paused and brought his hand to his neck. "Lose our virginities to one another."

Her eyes widened, as if startled. This piece of information was new to her, as she - and the rest of Hogwarts student body - always assumed he was well experienced with members of the female sex. It was easy to understand how someone could come to that conclusion about Ron, considering the tales that had been circulating around the school about his sexual prowess - all of them probably started by him, she thought.

Plus, Ron was always seen in the company of a female companion, usually a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, as all the girls in Gryffindor had wised up to his flirtatious ways. It seems as though the young man's popularity had grown over the years, as he was finally able to outgrow his title of "Harry's Sidekick" and establish a reputation of his own. Additionally, he had grown into his looks, as his facial features had now softened and his hair had developed into a handsome auburn.

The stories, the girls and the fact that she once found a pack of condoms in his wallet had caused Hermione to believe Ron had known many girls.

"I'm still a virgin," he said, as though reading her thoughts. His fingers spread out against the side of his head, shielding what she assumed was his embarrassed face. "All those stories about me being with numerous girls were just made up. Actually, the furthest I've ever gone with anyone was the stuff I did with you." He glanced at her.

She looked away, as she was made uncomfortable by his stare. It was then her turn to try to shield her face with her long hair, as the different amorous acts they had conducted over the course of their time together flashed into her mind, until she was able to recall the one act that represented the furthest they had gone together.

That act was conducted on a Saturday, some months before, when they had the afternoon all to themselves, as Ron's room mates were all busy with responsibilities that kept them out of the dorms. However, had either Harry, Dean, Seamus or Neville entered the dorm, they would have been greeted with a smorgasbord of flesh, as their eyes rested on Ron and Hermione's naked bodies.

No, they were not making love on that occasion, but simply laying side by side, glancing at each other's naked forms with delighted and astonished eyes. Hermione only agreed to go through with the act because Ron had promised not to touch her. While Ron's eyes roamed up and down her body, Hermione also took the opportunity to gaze at him - especially that part of him that she always felt against her hips and pelvis.

Although Ron had kept his promise and had not reached over to touch her, he could not resist asking her for a small favor, which she only obliged after much pleading and coercion from him.

The events that took place during that episode are ones that embarrass her still, as she found it hard to believe she would actually conduct such an act in front of another person. However, she was more surprised how she was able to let go and achieve such ecstasy, even with his eyes on her. She could still remember the noises that escaped her mouth that afternoon, as she lay on her back, her hands...

Hermione began to feel her face grow warm. Ron too must have been thinking of that incident, as he now had a sly grin on the corner of his lips. But the happy expression on his face slowly disappeared and became more serious. "I don't believe that you love only Harry," he said. "I think you have feelings for me too."

"Yes, I love both of you." She watched as Ron's body stiffened. His eyes grew wide, as a glimmer of optimism flittered in their depths. She soon realized that her statement caused this change in his appearance. "I care for you," she added quickly, "but only as a friend. My love is with Harry and he's the only one I want to have a romantic relationship with."

"Bullshit," he shouted, as his fist came crashing down on the bed. "I know you Herm. You're not the kind of person to snog someone unless you love them." He moved to the edge of the bed and sat facing her. "When we kissed earlier, I could tell you were loving it. And now you're saying all your feelings for me have suddenly disappeared since this morning?"

She looked down as she was finally faced with a question that she could not answer. It had never entered her mind that he would interrogate her in such a fashion, causing her to evaluation her own complicated reasoning.

An uncomfortable silence grew between them, which had now heightened her urge to escape even more. But the silence was finally broken when she heard him get off of Harry's bed and sit next to her. Her shoulders were soon burdened with the weight of his arm, as it draped across her body, pulling her closer to him.

Soon, the faint scent of his aftershave wafted into her nostrils. He had been wearing the scent now for the past two years, well before he had grown the little spurts of hair that were now on his face. In the past, he would always smell as though he had doused his entire body in the fragrance, making it unbearable for anyone standing next to him. But all of that had changed when Draco Malfoy had taken it upon himself to say something to the redhead, in front of the entire Potions class.

He pressed his face against her cheek, as he wrapped his arms around her chest, engulfing her with his body heat. "Do you know the kind of pain I was going through when Harry told me you guys were dating?" he asked against her ear, his breath fanning along her skin. "I was shattered."

His head slipped down the side of her face, finally resting in the crook of her neck. She sat still as she felt his warm breath hitting her skin in a fast and steady pace. She turned her head and stared down as his face, observing the longing expression in his half closed eyes.

She took that as her cue to wrap her arms around his body. He had wanted solitude the previous time, but it seemed as though he need something else at that moment: affection. With one hand splayed against his back, her other hand went to his hair. "I'm sorry Ron," she whispered, this time able to convey the true sincerity that had been there all along.

They stayed in that position a long time, even after his emotions had calmed. But he eventually pulled away, releasing her from the tight grip he had around her body, and sank back into his mattress.

She remained where she was, switching from glancing down at him, to the door and then discreetly down at her watch. Seeing that he was now calm and had heard the entire story, she wanted to leave the room and search for Harry. But her escape would have to be slow and well planned, as she didn't want to offend him and cause him to think she didn't care about his feelings.

She continued to glance at him, waiting for him to grant her permission to leave; but he did nothing of the sort, as he looked up at her with tranquil eyes. After a few minutes, she stated, "I think I'll go and see how Har--"

"Come over here," he muttered, as he reached out his arms to her.

Hermione stared at his large hands, which were only a few inches away from her, his fingers beckoning her forward.

"Herm," he said again, "come here and lay with me for a bit."

He talked in the same deep and husky voice he often used during happier times, when his lips would be pressed against her ear, whispering endearments to her while his hands traveled along the curves of her body.

She finally took his hand and lied on the bed with him. Staring up at the ceiling, she said, "Ron, I really should get go--"

He brought his finger to her mouth. "I don't want to continue with this conversation right now. I've had enough for one day. I just want to lay with you for a moment."

Hermione decided to oblige his seemingly innocent demand and rested her head on his chest. Her ear directly over his heart, she closed her eyes and allowed the steady beat to relax her, like it had done many times in the past.

                ~*~*~

Harry's happiness seemed only a distant memory as he walked down the hall, wandering about with no purpose other than finding a release for his anxiety. It amazed him to think how the serenity that had enveloped his morning could be dashed in just a few hours time; his existence turning dark, like the empty halls he now stalked.

He had appeared calm and relaxed while leaving Hermione in Gryffindor Tower, but that was a mere mask he wore to fool her and even himself. That tranquil facade had vanished the moment he stepped out of the portrait hole, allowing the harrowing thoughts to consume him; that pivotal moment when he had witnessed Ron and Hermione's kiss seemed to play over and over again in his mind, slowly torturing him. And his walk was doing very little to soothe his suffering, only intensifying matters, as he now had ample time to think and replay every disturbing episode in his mind.

"God damn it Hermione," he muttered in a tortured voice as he stopped walking and leaned against the wall, resting his head along the cold concrete.

He closed his eyes, thinking how Hermione should be telling Ron the truth at that very moment. But he suddenly became unsure she would be able to complete the task; the expression that loomed on her face when she chased him down those steps had left him with many doubts. "I should have stay with her," he said to himself. Yes, his presence would have encouraged her to reveal all the Ron, but it would also have prevented something else: her running into Ron's arms.

The entire scene played out in Harry's head, as he imagined Hermione making an attempt to tell Ron the truth - probably starting off with apologizing for causing him so much pain, he thought. But suddenly overcome by her feelings for him, she would succumb to Ron's charms and forgo her speech.

Harry winced and banged his fist against the wall as images of Ron and Hermione kissing or engaged in more intense activities flashed in his mind. His breathing became more audible as he imagined venturing into the dorms and finding them in the redhead's bed, their naked bodies entwined around each other as they made love.

Thoughts of what they could be doing at that moment forced Harry to wonder what Hermione had done with Ron in the past. She could have easily been intimate with both of them at the same time, running from one romantic tryst to another. He was then taken back to what Ron had told him about Hermione giving him oral pleasure. Although she had adamantly denied doing anything with the other boy at that time, Harry still wondered if she had engaged in such acts with the redhead during other occasions.

A sickening feeling developed in his stomach as he imagined Hermione's mouth moving up and down on Ron's body, satisfying his sexual urges. Only minutes later, he would be kissing those same lips, his tongue hungrily searching her mouth - the same mouth that was still fresh with Ron's fluids.

Harry placed his hand over his mouth as he could feel the sickness traveling up his throat. Running down the corridor, he didn't care who he bumped into, or saw him; his only objective was to not be sick all over himself. He rounded the corner and pushed open the door to the bathroom, rushing to the stall on his right. He remained on his knees for a long time, as he was overcome by wave after wave of sickness. When the retching finally stopped, his was left with an acidic taste in his mouth.

Finally getting to his feet, he headed to the small sink and rinsed out his mouth. Glancing into the mirror at his own image, he was taken aback by the startling sight that greeted him; his eyes had dark circles around them, his skin pale. He lowered his head as he began to feel dizzy.

He closed his eyes, thinking what a fool he had been. For the second time, he had opened his heart to someone, only to have it broken. The first heartache had occurred the year before, courtesy of Cho. They had gotten together earlier that year when she had finally stopped mourning the lost of her first love. Although their union was a passionate one, it was marred with mishaps from the very beginning, for it wasn't long into the courtship that Cho and her parents began to receive death threats from Voldemort. The combination of the threats and being in a high profile relationship caused Cho to pull away from Harry.

Cho's breakup with him was a humiliating ordeal, especially since he had to hear about it through Padma, who was never able to convincingly hide her delight when telling him the news.

He didn't blame her for wanting to distance herself from him and his turbulent life; but it would have been a lot easier on his emotions and pride if she had talked to him in person. It was always the same with the women in his life: they always kept things from him.

"First Cho and now Hermione," he muttered to himself. He was now over the sadness that he had encased him earlier; a new emotion now took over him.

He grabbed the faucet, his fingers tightly wrapping around the handle as he attempted to rip it from the wall. But all his strength could not make the thing budge. He glanced at his image again, clenching his teeth as he looked at the defeated young man before him. His breathing now erratic, he wrapped his robes around his fist and bought his body weight towards the mirror, smashing the glass to bits.

"Shit," he screamed as he felt and heard something in his hand snap, hurling enormous pain throughout his arm. He turned around and brought his foot to the one of the stall doors, watching as it wildly swung back and forth. He then spotted a nearby trashcan and kicked it across the room, causing the contents to spill onto the floor.

Finally calming himself down, he leaned against he tiled wall. He glanced down at his robe-covered hand; it was damp. He sat on the floor, and looked across the room at nothing in particular. He would have stayed there if it weren't for the throbbing pain that came in waves, causing him to wince every so often. His hand could have been broken, he thought, but he was too afraid to look at it. Besides, the pain and the shards of glass that were stuck to his robes told him all he needed to know. He finally got up from his position and headed to the hospital wing.

In his rush to get down the hall, he bumped into someone on the process, knocking him or her over. He glanced over his shoulder at the young man sitting on the ground, his silvery hair now sticking to his face. Harry looked up a the ceiling, cursing his luck and the way he and Malfoy always seemed to meet each other during the most inconvenient times. He watched as Draco gingerly got to his feet, brushing off his robes and straightening his hair.

Harry then began to walk away.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" the blond shouted after him.

Harry stopped and turned around. The two young men glared at one another, as they occasionally did during the school year. Although it had been a while since they had last battled, the day was not over yet; and with so much adrenaline coursing through his body, Harry doubted he would be able to back down from a physical confrontation, if it came to that.

Their last fight had occurred during their fifth year, and although Harry was not proud of it - nor the two weeks of detention that followed - he saw it as a necessary evil, as it established who was the toughest. Since then, Draco had stopped challenging him, and resorted to throwing hard looks from afar, or getting revenge on him in Potions class.

Harry's eyes washed over the other boy, observing his face and the bruising that still remained on his fair skin from where his black eye had not healed properly.

"Who do you think you are?" Draco asked, placing his hands on his hips. "Prancing about the castle like you own the place." His lip curled upwards and a scowl spread on his face, as his eyes moved up and down on Harry. He opened his mouth to say more, but stopped.

Harry noticed the blond's eyes widening as they traveling down his scarlet robes, to his right hand. After a few moments of staring at him, Draco took a step back, his mouth partly opened. Seeing that the other boy was now backing away, Harry turned and made his way down the hall once more.

                ~*~*~

"Jesus child," exclaimed Madam Pomfrey when he stood before her, blood dripping from his robes and forming a small pool on the floor, "what have you done to yourself?"

Harry didn't answer, only staring past her shoulder. Besides, he did not know how to eloquently express the intense feelings that were running through his body at that time, the same feelings that had caused him to abandon all logic as he lunged forward, his fist flying towards that glass.

She eventually led him to the small examining table. "I can just imagine how you got yourself into this mess," she stated, staring up at him as she gingerly pulled out the particles of glass from his skin with tweezers. "You and Draco Malfoy have been fighting each other for so long. Don't you think you guys are getting a bit old for this?"

Harry turned his head as she worked, trying to get the sight of his bloody hand out of his mind. When the throbbing in his hand stopped, he got up to leave, but she grabbed his shirt, preventing his escape. "The spell takes time to set in. So go over there," she said pointing to one of the few empty beds in the room, " and sit down."

He thought of escaping, but the look in her eyes told him he would have a struggle on his hands if he tried anything. He headed to the empty bed.

                ~*~*~

The noise in the hospital wing was an overwhelming mixture of coughs and sneezes, as many students were overcome by allergies and colds from the sudden change in the weather. Harry had been sitting on that bed for close to an hour, his eyes looking straight ahead, consumed by his thundering thoughts and the nightmare that seemed so unreal. During the course of that time, many other students had approached him, as they tried to engage him in a conversation, or some sort of exchange on the weather. But one by one, they had all been met with his glassy eyes and silence, which eventually forced them to leave, wondering what they could have done to offend the green-eyed boy.

When Madam Pomfrey finally permitted him to leave, he headed out of the room, not bothering to thank her for her services. He headed down the hall and rounded the corner to an abandoned hall, which was littered with rows of empty classrooms. He had discovered these rooms during his fifth year, when he strolled the castle in an attempt to escape the constant chattering of the other students in his house. These rooms were now used for his nightly excursions with Hermione. He opened the door to the room closest to him, the one that allowed the full light of the moon to shine through its window, blanketing him and Hermione with a romantic glow as they lay on the floor.

He walked to the far end of the room, where he and Hermione made love for the second time and sat down on the floor. His head hanging low, he closed his eyes as he contemplated the troubles in his love life. The pain in his chest was such that he somehow wished for the arrival of another death threat from Voldemort, whose criminal activities had surprisingly been dormant for the past year.

His green eyes glazed over the spot he and Hermione had stood the previous night, when he had found a growing interest in the nape of her neck. His head darting from right to left, he couldn't find a corner in the room where he and Hermione - or Ginny, for that matter - had not leaned against or on when embarking on a frenzy filled night of amorous delights.

Cho had also been brought to the room on several occasions; however, none of those instances had resulted in sexual bliss. She had frowned upon the idea of doing anything with him in an empty classroom, much preferring the large beds, continental breakfast, and cotton sheets of the Hogsmeade Marquise Hotel - where Harry learned that a few galleons placed in the hands of one of the hotel managers would ensure that they would turn a blind eye to him being a student.

Harry raised his head when he heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. He scurried to a shadowy corner of the room and held his breath when the doorknob began to creak open. Whoever the person was, they were walking in his direction. He looked to see if he could find somewhere else to hide until he was able to make his way to the door, but he was trapped where he was.

He then watched as a young woman sat down in the same spot he had been and stared out the window. Seeing that a few strands of her auburn hair were stuck to her face, he guessed she had just recently returned from Hogsmeade. He stayed in the corner, hoping that she would leave shortly, giving him back the solitude that he had prior to her appearance.

As it became more and more difficult to keep silent and to remain in that awkward crouching position, Harry decided to make his presence known as he reached out his hand and touched Ginny on the leg. She jumped back and let out a high-pitched screech.

"It's just me," Harry said as he moved out of the shadows and sat next to her.

She continued to stare at him with wide eyes. "You scared me to death. What are you doing in the corner like that?"

"I've been in here for quite awhile. I needed a place to think." He observed as a tinge of remorse began to spread on her face. Anticipating her question, he said, "No, you weren't disturbing me. I think there's enough room in here for both of us."

His eyes then drifted to Ginny's hands, which were in her slightly moist hair, positioning it behind her ears. "I didn't know you still came in here," he said.

"I love it in here. It's a good place to get away from everyone." Ginny unbuttoned her robes and slipped the garment off her shoulders. "Plus, this place holds some great memories for me." Her hand flittered to his knee.

Harry nervously smiled and then glanced away, as her hand began to travel along his leg. He had first brought her to that room during the spring of his sixth year, when he was in desperate need to talk to someone about his heartbreak over Cho. Since Hermione was busy mentoring several first years and Ron was preoccupied with a certain Hufflepuff, Harry choose to confide in Ginny - who was more than willing to listen to his problems. Their talks slowly developed into a marathon gabfest that lasted up to six hours. But those discussions became less frequent when their outwardly innocent relationship turned more passionate.

Ginny removed her hand from his knee and began to stare down at the students on the lawn below. Harry watched her for a moment, his eyes running up and down that body that he had once enjoyed touching. But the desire to be with her was now long gone, dissipated by his feelings for Hermione. He looked down at his hands for a moment, before glancing up at her.

"Do you think I used you?" he asked. He watched the way her eyes gazed over him in a perplexing manner. "I mean, do you think I used you for your body or anything when we were together?"

"But we never slept together," she muttered.

"I know. But we did other things though."

She brought her attention back to the window, as she was now thinking things through. After a moment of consideration, she said, "No. I don't think you used me. I pretty much knew what I was getting myself into. I knew you just wanted someone to keep get your mind away from Cho."

Harry lowered his head. Hearing those words come out of her mouth did nothing to ease his worries. "Now I'm truly convinced I treated you poorly."

Ginny lifted her hand to his head, twirling his thick mane around her fingers. "I don't want you to be upset by that. I don't feel taken advantage of at all. I wanted the same things as you."

Harry managed a slight smile when he felt her hand travel down to his face, cradling his chin. "I'm glad you feel that way."

The two grew quiet for several moments afterwards, as Harry leaned against the wall and stared out towards the door, and Ginny continuing to glance out the window. She picked her robes from the floor and wiped off the dust that was now stuck to the fabric.

"I thought you'd still be in Hogsmeade," she said. "I assumed you'd be at the hotel right now with your girlfriend."

The content look on Harry’s face disappeared as he glanced at her, hoping that something in her expression would give away what she knew of him and his `mystery woman.' "Who said I was going to the hotel with anyone?"

"I saw you coming out of the hotel and you had a key so I assumed..." She paused for a moment. "Plus, Ron mentioned something about you having a girlfriend."

Harry leaned back into the wall and brought his knees to his chest. "Those plans are gone now. I don't think I'll be going anywhere with her for a long time."

Ginny moved away from the window and sat beside him. But she did not utter a word, only placing her hand on top of his. Her eyes met his for a slight second, before she directed her gaze straight ahead. That was the thing he liked most about her: she never tried to force things out of people.

"Me and this girl," Harry began, "were seeing each other for a while. But she betrayed me." He paused for a moment when he noticed a lump beginning to form in the back of his throat. "I later found out she was involved with...someone else."

"She cheated on you?"

"No. Actually, she was with this other guy first. But she said they broke up when we got together. However, I still think she has feelings for him. I know she still has feelings for him; I caught her kissing him today."

Harry continued to tell her the entire story, of course leaving out certain specifics, such as the identity of Ron and Hermione. Soon, the nervousness and apprehensions lifted from his body, as he found comfort in confiding in her again. When he finished talking, he glanced over at her.

"Do you still love her?" Ginny asked.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He wanted so badly to say he didn't care for her, but he could not. "Yes."

"Then I think..." She brought her hands to her head, and scrunched her face in concentration. "You should give her another chance."

"But what about the other guy? What if she runs to--"

"Harry," she interjected, "you'll just have to trust her. It's apparent she loves you. And it took a lot for her to come clean. If you didn't matter to her, she would have stayed in Hogsmeade and not have come after you."

"If I take her back, I'll keep wondering about her and R-" He stopped himself before he muttered Ron's name. He glanced at her face, but nothing in her expression told him she had guessed the identity of the other boy. "I'll continue to wonder about her and this other guy."

She moved closer to him, draping her arm around his shoulders. "If you don't give her another chance, you'll continue to wonder about what could have been for the rest of your life. Now, if she cheats on you with him, then she wasn't worth it, and you should just find yourself another girl."

Harry winced when he heard those words escape from Ginny's mouth, but she somehow must have guessed how he was feeling at that moment because her arms tightened around him. "I'm sure the sight of you hurting,” she whispered, “will encourage her to keep her distance from this other boy." Her hand began to make its way up and down Harry's back. "But you won't find out unless you take her back."

                ~*~*~

Harry left the abandoned room with a clear head and a definite decision in his mind. His spirits were now beginning to brighten as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower alone - Ginny had opted to stay in the classroom.

Stepping into the common room, he saw Neville and Seamus sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with bags of sweets littered around them.

"Harry," said Seamus, "you want some candy?" He held up one of the large bags near his arm. "Honeydukes was practically giving away all of this stuff."

Harry shook his head and made his way to the stairway.

"I wouldn't go up there if I were you," commented Neville. "Ron is up there with a girl."

Seamus quickly chewed his candy and swallowed hard. "He's in bed with Hermione," he commented excitedly. "I saw them, they were naked."

"There's no way you could tell it was Hermione; the room was too dark." Neville glanced up at Harry. "He's in there with someone, but I think they're just sleeping."

Harry looked back from the two boys in front of him to the stairway. He closed his eyes for a moment, as he considered venturing upstairs to the horrific scene he knew awaited him. He finally decided to head up to the dorms.

"When you see Ron," Seamus called after him, "can you tell him to find another place to snog? I'm getting a little sick of having to hide out down here every time he feels randy. It's our room too."

Harry halted at the entryway for a moment, before forcing himself to approach Ron's bed. "Please let it be someone else," he said in his head, as he got closer to his destination. He stood next to Ron's nightstand and glanced down at his sleeping friend. He could plainly see that Seamus had exaggerated; Ron was fully dressed. But he took a step backwards when he looked down at the person lying beside the redhead.

With his hand over his mouth, he eyed the way Ron's arm was wrapped around Hermione's waist, and how her hand was positioned on the redhead's belt buckle, her fingers almost touching his groin.

Hermione slowly began to open her eyes. She lifted her head from Ron's chest and glanced up at him.

Harry didn't say anything to her, but stood where he was, casting his shadow over their bodies. He then brought his eyes to her, giving her a long unblinking stare. After their interlude, he glanced at the wall for a moment, before making his way to his trunk.

He opened the trunk and sat on the floor rummaging though it, his hands wading through the numerous garments and books until he found what he was seeking. He pulled out his book bag, a change of clothes, a silvery metallic garment, and threw them all onto his bed.

He heard Hermione climb out of Ron's bed and walk towards him. A great desire to place the invisibility cloak over his head and shield the expression on his face overwhelmed him. But knowing she was standing behind him, he fought back his emotions.

Her hand soon found its way to his shoulder, slowly trickling towards his neck. "I told him everything," she said in a soft voice.

Standing up, he glanced down at her. "How did he take it?" he asked as he looked over at the slumbering young man, whose mouth was slightly opened, his curly masses of hair a wild mess that rivaled his own.

"It broke his heart, as you can imagine." She turned her head to look at the Ron. A smile slowly crept onto her face as she eyed him. "But overall, he took the whole thing a lot better than I had imagined. I was quite pleased with how mature he was during the whole ordeal."

When she faced him again, Harry eyed her with hard eyes, his gaze lingering on her upwardly turned lips. She immediately stopped smiling.

"I guess you guys made up after all," he said.

"No. He just wanted me to lay down with him for a moment."

Harry continued to stare at her. He tried to keep his face expressionless, which was not an easy task as his eyes were now beginning to swell. But keeping his voice as neutral as possible, he said, "It's okay if you guys have."

She reached out her hand and touched his shoulder. "I told him that I only want to be with you."

Harry pulled away and began to place his clothes and the cloak in his bag.

Out of habit, he bent down and opened the bottom drawer of his nightstand, reaching for the book with the picture of the naked couple on the cover, the same book that had earned him so many stares and raised eyebrows at the bookstore. However, that publication had proved instrumental in raising the level of his sexual performance; even Cho had commented on the vast improvement after their second sexual encounter, which lacked the hesitant moves and nervous caresses that plagued their first night together.

Harry hesitated for a moment and glanced up at Hermione, observing the gleeful expression glimmering in her eyes, from what he guessed was anticipation of the new maneuvers from the book he would use on her that night. He could still recall the exuberant moans and pants that escaped her mouth during their last rendezvous, when he used a technique on her which the book called "The Butterfly."

His eyes darted from her to Ron, where it remained for a moment. The book then slipped from his fingers and fell back into the drawer.

The gleam in her eyes disappeared at that moment and became flooded with disappointment, as she continued to glance down at that closed drawer. Observing the expression now developing in her features, he guessed she wanted to ask him something. But she kept quiet.

He flung the book bag over his shoulder. "I'm going back to Hogsmeade," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

She took a step towards him and raised her hand to his face. Harry flinched and then closed his eyes as her fingers roamed down to his neck, in the same gentle manner that never failed to soothe him.

"Just give me a minute," she breathed. "I need time to pack some of my things and…." She paused for a moment. "And to tell Ron goodbye."

The mention of the other boy's name forced Harry's eyes to snap open.

Before he could open his mouth to say anything, Hermione placed her hands on his shoulders and began to direct him to the door. "I don't want you to be here," she said, "when I tell him I'm leaving with you. Just wait for me in the common room."

Harry remained quiet and allowed her to lead him to the stairs.