For Your Love

Chapter 18 - The Three of Us

Harry and Ron sat by the window in the common room attempting to complete their Charms essays without the books they needed. Ever since their breakup, Ron had imposed a strict ban on the library, saying that since Hermione loved it so much, she could have it all to herself. It was working well for keeping the two apart, but not so well for getting schoolwork done.

Harry looked up from his parchment. "Why don't I just go and..."

"No," Ron said, scribbling furiously. What he could possibly be writing, Harry didn't know.

"But I could just bring the books back here..."

"No."

Harry had tried not to take sides, but Ron had latched onto him and wouldn't let Harry out of his sight, not wanting to risk Hermione being able to catch him alone. Harry sighed and poised his quill over his mostly blank parchment.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Hermione walking toward them tentatively, her arms loaded with library books. She looked between the two boys for a moment before setting her load down on the table, causing Ron to look up. He eyed the stack, then set his jaw and went back to his scribbling.

"I brought these from the library," Hermione said quietly. "I thought you might..."

"Don't need 'em, thanks," Ron said tersely, gathering up his supplies and pushing his chair back from the table.

"Ron, you can't just..." she began, but he swept passed her without another glance. She watched him go and then slumped into the chair next to Harry, fingering the worn cover of Concealment Charms: Beyond Invisibility that lay on top of the pile.

"Can I use them?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Oh, of course," she said dejectedly, pushing the pile toward him.

He grabbed the top one eagerly and began thumbing through it. "Thanks, Hermione, you're a life saver."

Finding what he needed, Harry began to jot down notes in his notebook when he heard a series of small sniffs beside him. Closing his eyes and resigning himself to the inevitable, he stopped writing and chanced a quick glance at her.

"Hermione, please don't start crying," he begged. "I hate seeing you cry."

"What?" she started, wiping her hand across her cheek. "I'm not crying."

He turned back to his parchment but had only written a few lines before she spoke again.

"It's just that," she began quietly, "I've ruined us, haven't I?"

Harry frowned. He set down his quill and turned to her. "Us?"

"The three of us. It's ruined and it won't ever be the same, will it?" She turned to look at him fully and he saw the unshed tears in her eyes. "I should never have let him talk me into the two of us being together. If I hadn't, it would still be the three of us. Like always. Wouldn't it?"

She looked as though she wanted so badly for him to tell her that nothing had changed and everything would be alright, but he just couldn't. He shook his head and gave her a sad smile. "I think it hasn't been the three of us for a while now."

He watched as the tears slipped out of her eyes and her face crumpled. She wept silently and hid behind her hands, tears splashing down onto her lap.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered. "I never meant to..."

"Shh," he soothed, reaching out to rub her arm while glancing over his shoulder uncomfortably. "He'll come around; you just have to give him some time. You know how he is."

She nodded, wiping the wetness from her face.

"Anyway, you haven't lost me," he said.

She smiled through watery eyes. "I know." She reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"Good."

Hermione took a deep breath and sat lost in thought while Harry went back to work. After a few minutes of silence she stood and said, "I'm going upstairs."

"Okay," Harry said absently, flipping through a book to check something.

She hovered over his shoulder, reading what he had written. "Don't forget to include the part about wand movements," she murmured.

"Yep," he grunted, scribbling.

"And those books need to go back to the library before it closes."

"Got it."

"Do you want me to just stay and..."

"Hermione!"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, squeezing his shoulder once more before hurrying up the stairs.

Harry chuckled and shook his head.

* * *

When Harry was finished with his essay, he gathered up the stack of books and set off for the library; it was growing late and he had just enough time to return them before curfew. He slipped through the deserted corridors until he reached the tapestry of Lucy the Languid, which concealed a passageway down to the fourth floor. Stepping behind it, he stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the faint torchlight when he heard footsteps approaching from the other end of the passage. They were light and quick, allaying his fears that it might be Filch or some other professor patrolling for wayward students.

"Lumos," he whispered, and his wand emitted a faint light. His shoes echoed off the stone floor, causing the other footsteps to stop, but he pressed on, anxious to get by them and on his way.

The dim light showed the outline of a girl up ahead. He quickened his pace, glancing at her as he passed, but then stopped abruptly and held his wand up for a better look.

"Ginny? Is that you?"

She looked up at him, startled, but her shoulders relaxed when she recognized his face.

"You scared me," she said, letting out a breath.

"Sorry, I was just... why are you all wet?"

Droplets of water shone on her robe and her hair hung damp around her face.

"Oh," she said, as though just realizing the state she was in. She pushed the hair off her face and her eyes darted down the passageway. "I was just out for a walk."

Harry's brow creased. "What do you mean? Outside?"

She nodded and he saw that she was shivering.

"What the..." He set his books down and shrugged off his robe, pulling it around her shoulders. "It's the middle of winter, Gin."

She nodded again, not quite managing a smile. "I know, I just... fancied a walk. You know... fresh air... clear the head..."

He looked at her uncertainly. "Listen, go up and sit by the fire. I'll be right back. I just have to drop these books off, and then I'll come sit with you."

She clutched his hand suddenly, startling him. She was cold as ice. "Let me come with you," she said.

"Are you okay?" he asked, but she was already tugging at his hand.

"Come on," she said. "You don't want to get stuck out here after curfew."

He bent down to scoop up the books and followed after her. They had almost reached the tapestry at the far end when it was pushed aside by the Head Boy, who stopped abruptly upon seeing them. Harry rolled his eyes and noticed that Ginny quickly let go of his hand as Draco stepped inside and let the tapestry fall closed.

"Isn't this cozy," Draco said dryly.

"We're just going to the library. What are you doing in here anyway, Malfoy? I believe the dungeons are that way," Harry said, nodding his head toward the hallway beyond them.

"Right you are, Potter. Must be I'm going somewhere else."

Harry shook his head, wondering how the simple act of returning library books had become such a strange affair. He continued past Draco and held the tapestry open for Ginny, who didn't glance back as she hurried through it.

Draco stood silently in the passageway until he heard their footsteps die away. Then, shaking the dampness out of his hair, he went out the way he had come and proceeded toward the dungeons.

* * *

"What were you doing outside?" Harry asked once they were seated by the fire.

"I... I'm not really sure," Ginny said, still huddled in his robe. "It was so strange, Harry. I just felt like I needed to get away, like there was this longing in me for something that I could touch if I just reached far enough."

Her hair was finally dry, but her cheeks still shone pink. She was breathing in quick bursts, and it made Harry feel uneasy.

"Something was calling me," she went on. "I'm not sure if it was a good idea to follow it, but I couldn't not go."

Her hand clutched his forearm as she spoke and her face was alive with confusion, wonder, and excitement all rolled together. Harry felt his pulse quicken in spite of himself. She was very striking in the firelight, the way her hair glistened as she moved her head, the way her lips moved so urgently. He mentally shook himself.

"What do you mean something was calling you?" he pressed. "Gin, I'm not sure that's such a good thing. I mean, the last time you were wandering around outside at night... well, some pretty bad things happened."

"No, it wasn't like that. It wasn't against my will, it was something I wanted... like it wanted me. Oh, I'm not making any sense; I just know what I felt."

She didn't tell him that not only had she gone to the cliffs, but had also picked her way down the rocky staircase to the water's edge. The wind off the lake had played with her hair and a misty rain had begun to fall, blanketing her in droplets. She'd looked out across the blackness to the opposite shore and thought she had seen a light, faint and weak, and her heart leapt out to it. She thought that if she could have, she would have walked on water to get to it. But now it seemed like just a mirage, playing in the back of her mind.

"Well, if you feel it again, I think you should tell someone before you just go wandering off out of the castle," Harry said with concern. "Tell me."

She brought her eyes to his and turned up the corner of her mouth. "Always watching out for me, aren't you." She squeezed his arm, sending a warmness through him. "I'm not eleven anymore, Harry, and I'm not incapable of taking care of myself. But I suppose you can worry over me if you like."

He snorted. "Nice of you to give me permission."

She sniggered and shoved his arm away. "Goodnight," she said, standing and dropping his robe from around her shoulders onto his lap.

As Harry watched her go, he felt a tug in his chest. "Ginny?" he called.

She turned around. "Yes?"

But he had no response, so after a moment he merely said, "Goodnight."

He stared back into the fire, trying to go over their conversation again in his mind, but was distracted by the lingering scent of her on his robes.

* * *

"Do you think I could use this spell to conceal myself from Hermione?" Ron whispered as he sat next to Harry in Charms class. "Then maybe she'd stop giving me that look all the time. You know the one, that 'Oh Ron, why don't you just grow up so we can be friends again' look."

"Oh, definitely," Harry said, closing his books as the bell sounded. "Hey, while you're at it, maybe you could conceal yourself from me, too. Then I wouldn't have to listen to you prattle on about her anymore," he said irritably. "Just go talk to her, for Merlin's sake!"

They stood and made their way out of the classroom with Hermione trailing behind them. But as they emerged into the corridor, Ellie, who had been waiting for them, sprang forward and touched Harry's arm, causing him to turn around.

"Hi!" he said in surprise. It was unlike her to be waiting for him in the corridors, let alone touch him in public.

She glanced nervously at Hermione and Ron, who were looking at Harry with curious expressions. "Hi. Could I borrow you for just a minute? I... I need to talk to you about getting some ingredients for our Potions project."

"Oh... sure," Harry said, confused. He was certain they had already covered everything for the potion that was next on their list. Turning to Ron and Hermione, he shrugged. "I guess I'll see you later."

Ellie smiled at them, realizing that this must seem unusual, her just showing up out of nowhere. "Thanks," she said feebly. They nodded and parted ways. Hermione, uncomfortable at suddenly being left alone with Ron, headed toward the library, and Ron turned the other way as Ellie began to tug on Harry's arm. She led them around the corner, pushing against the flow of students, stopping periodically to glance into the classrooms until she found an empty one. Pulling him in, she shut the door firmly and pointed her wand at the handle muttering, "Colloportus."

"You had to lock us in an empty classroom to talk about Potions ingredients?" Harry asked.

"No." She dropped her bag and wand on the floor and strode over to him, grabbing his robes and pushing him against the wall. Her hands were shaking. "Kiss me."

Harry was taken aback. In all the times they'd been together, Ellie had never been so aggressive. Something must have happened to put her in such a state.

"What..." he began. But she cut him off, crushing her mouth against his in passionate desperation. Her fingers snaked through his hair, holding him tighter. Never had he been kissed like this, with such raw desire and urgency. It felt good. He wanted to get closer. He kissed her back, letting his tongue wander over her lips. Her body pressed into him as his hands made their way to her back, clutching at the fabric of her robes. Somewhere in his clouded mind, a voice asked if he wasn't getting a little too lost in this feeling. She's not your girlfriend, it said. She doesn't love you. I didn't ask her to, he fought back. That's not what this is about.

He pushed away from the wall, spinning her so that her back was against it, not breaking their kiss. She sighed into his mouth and trailed her fingers down his neck, slipping her hands inside of his robes to feel his firm chest. He leaned into her, pressing her against the wall, his hands cupping her face, his lips kissing her over and over. She responded to him with such fervor that he wondered what he had done to deserve it.

His hands drifted down, brushing across the rise of her breasts and moving along the curve of her sides to her hips. He pulled her to him, the contact causing a low moan to escape from his throat. His forehead leaned against hers and he stopped moving, except for his chest which was rising and falling rapidly. Ellie pulled away and stared into his eyes. Taking his hands in hers, she moved them inside the opening in her robes, guiding his arms around her waist and under the hem of her shirt, so that his fingers touched the warm skin of her back. Her lips brushed his cheek and made their way down his neck, making his heart beat even faster. The softness of her skin welcomed his hands as they moved up, hesitating at the thin strap of material that crossed her back. He fingered the clasp tentatively.

"Is this okay?" he murmured. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

She seemed to pause for a moment before bringing her lips up to Harry's ear and brushing it lightly. "Yes," she whispered.

His hands began to tremble. He had heard from other blokes that these things were notoriously difficult to undo, causing all sorts of embarrassing scenes where the girl had to eventually do it for them. Apparently it took some practice, and he had certainly not... had... practice. He tried to concentrate as he fumbled with the clasp. Ellie bit her lip in an effort not to laugh as she took his face in her hands and smiled at his frustration.

"It's okay," she whispered, "keep trying."

She kissed him again, coaxing him on. Her patience calmed his nerves and after a few more tries, he freed the hooks and pressed his hands into the smooth skin of her back, pulling her close again and kissing her deeply. A sigh of pleasure rewarded his efforts, sending a tingling through him; he felt emboldened. Slipping his hand around her sides, he lifted the lacy material and brushed his palms against the warm flesh of her breasts. She gasped against him, lifting her lips from his and tilting her head back. Harry couldn't believe how soft she was; he thought there was nothing like it in the world. He dipped his head to her neck and brushed it with his lips. If there was anything more beautiful than this girl at this moment, his mind could not recall what it might be.

He ached for her, but he wasn't willing to take things any further without some indication of what she wanted. They had certainly never talked about how far their physical relationship might go. Harry whispered her name, and they looked into each other's eyes, breathing heavily.

Ellie held his gaze as he questioned her with his eyes, but just as quickly as their passion had overtaken them, it was gone. A shadow came over Ellie's face, and her eyes shone bright against the darkness. Harry felt a moment of panic at the realization that the gasp she had made when he touched her might not have been from pleasure. He quickly removed his hands from her shirt.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh," she smiled through her tears, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "you're so sweet. No, you didn't hurt me. I just... I'm so..."

The pain in her voice drove any thoughts of what they might or might not have been about to do from his mind, and he willed his body's reaction to subside. "What is it? Tell me."

She shook her head.

"Ellie..." He drew back from her slightly. "I'm here. This is what we do, right? I'm your punching bag. Come on. Hit me."

She looked at him uncertainly, as if trying to gauge whether she could trust him, if he really meant it. When he did not waver, she wiped the wetness from her cheeks and breathed in deeply, backing away from him and readjusting her clothing as she moved toward the door. Harry's heart sank; he didn't want her to leave. But she merely stooped to rummage through her bag, digging until she found an envelope. Clutching it in both hands, she returned to where he stood waiting, shielding it protectively for a moment before holding it out to him.

It was a letter. On the front Ellie had written Reed's name. Harry turned it over and saw that it was unopened. A short note scrawled across the back read, "Please don't, El. I have to sort through this on my own."

Harry looked up at Ellie. The tears from before had been replaced by a cold look of anger and hurt.

"Yesterday was our one year anniversary," she said, barely above a whisper. "I thought that if I could just remind him of what we had, what we could still have, that he would see that this... that our being apart is just crazy. But he didn't even read it. I got it back today with that note."

Harry couldn't even pretend to know what she was going through; his only experiences with affairs of the heart were stunted at best. But he only had to know her to see that Reed was mad for ever giving her up. She was beautiful, smart, patient, knew exactly what she wanted. Who wouldn't love her?

Yes, asked the voice in the back of his mind, who wouldn't?

Ellie's voice broke into his thoughts. "I'm so angry. I hate him for doing this to me." Her fists were balled up and her chest began to rise and fall more quickly. Her eyes fell on Harry, and she suddenly advanced on him, raising her fists and pounding him in the chest with one quick blow. Harry's eyes widened as her cheeks flushed, and he saw the fire building in her.

"Men," she spat. "Why are you all so stupid?" She pounded him again, causing him to take a step back. "What is it that you want, huh? Freedom? To be able to go and shag any girl you want? To live life without love and not have to give a thought to how anyone else feels? What is it?!"

Harry's heart was racing. This wasn't like when Hermione got angry with him over some seemingly insignificant thing. This was gut-wrenching honesty. He knew that her anger wasn't directed at him, but she was hitting a little too close to home. Hadn't he done that? Hadn't he chosen a friendship with Ginny over the complications and risks of a relationship with her? Wasn't the attraction of being with Ellie precisely that he was free to come and go with no trappings of a commitment?

Ellie raised her arms again, but Harry caught her wrists and held them tight. "Ellie," he said, trying to remain calm, "I didn't mean for you to hit me literally."

At his words, she seemed to snap out of her haze and looked into his eyes, startled. She sucked in her breath. "Oh, Harry... I'm sorry." She opened her hands, still in his grasp, and placed them gently on his chest. "What am I doing? I'm so sorry."

He released her hands and touched her cheek, holding her gaze. "Are you okay?" She looked frightened. He thought she had scared herself as much as him.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

He smiled, trying to lighten the moment. "Do you want me to find him and hex him for you?"

But she didn't smile. "No," she whispered, "I want him back." Her face creased in sadness. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't be dragging you into this." She turned away from him, bending to gather her things.

"Ellie," he said softly, but she shook her head and opened the door, leaving him alone.

* * *

Hermione was in a foul mood. The day had started normally enough with her daily attempt at making conversation with Ron over breakfast, to no avail as usual. She was all for giving Ron time and space, but his avoidance of her was bordering on the ridiculous. Then she had missed a question on her Arithmancy exam, which she could only attribute to the great stress she had been under lately, though it was still no excuse for a poor mark, made worse by the fact that Ellie Bridgeton had scored perfectly - the only girl who had ever offered Hermione any real academic competition.

And if that wasn't enough, Draco Malfoy had had the audacity to interrupt her Ancient Runes study session that afternoon to complain that the Slytherin Quidditch team had been bumped off of the practice field by Gryffindor, and what was she going to do about it? After a fierce argument about roles and responsibilities, she had been forced to march out to the Quidditch pitch only to have Harry shrug his shoulders at her and continue on with his practice. And now, now, she had just spent the past half-hour finding a replacement for Ginny Weasley who had apparently failed to show up for her evening rounds.

Hermione marched up the girls' staircase to the sixth years' room and rapped firmly on the door.

"Ginny?" she called, but there was no answer. "Maura? Abby? Anyone?" She opened the door into the darkened room and saw a lone figure standing next to the window.

"Ginny!" she said, striding across the room. "There you are. Listen, I'm sure you're very busy just like we all are, but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't skive off rounds. Do you know I had to ask Pansy Parkinson to cover your shift? And if Malfoy thinks I owe him a favor now because of it, I'll just scream; he is driving me absolutely batty and I... Ginny, are you even listening?"

Ginny, who had been staring out the window during the tirade, now turned to the Head Girl with a furrowed brow. "Hermione, what are you on about?"

Hermione stopped and stared at her, incredulous. "Rounds!" she yelled, startling Ginny back to the present.

"There's no need to shout," she grimaced, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot. Were you able to find someone to cover?"

"Yes, I've just told you..."

"Good," Ginny interrupted, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "Sorry, I'll make it up next time."

Hermione sat down next to her, frowning. "Ginny, what's going on with you? I've noticed you coming back late at night; Harry says you missed a Quidditch practice; Colin seems to be always looking for you. Are you okay?"

"Sounds like everyone has got too much time on their hands if they're monitoring my every move," she said tersely, then relented at the look of consternation on Hermione's face. "Sorry. I'm just feeling a bit stressed these days, you know, first year of NEWTs and all. I guess it's becoming a bit much."

"Well, if it's schoolwork you're worried about, I can help you with that. But is that really all it is?"

Ginny shrugged her off. "Hermione, you've got plenty on your plate without worrying over me."

Hermione put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "That's what friends do. Besides, Ron has risen worrying over you to art form. It was bound to rub off on me eventually. Really, Ginny, if there's anything you need... anything you want to talk about..."

Well, yes actually, thought Ginny. It turns out that the spirit of Tom Riddle? You know, the one we all thought Harry killed? Well, he's back. Why, you ask? Because a boy actually had the nerve to fall in love with me. Except now, that boy and I are hardly speaking because I'm too terrified of what Tom might do to me, or what Colin might do for that matter if he ever found out. And for some inexplicable reason I'm being drawn outside into the darkness by this feeling in me that is so strong, I think I'll die if I don't give in to it. And the only one who can make any sense of this, the only one that I feel even remotely safe around, is Harry. Harry, who I'm still desperately in love with despite the fact that nothing will ever come of it. Harry, who worries over me and protects me and gives me his friendship, but who wouldn't know how to love me if his life depended on it. Thanks for asking.

Instead, she merely nodded. "Thanks, Hermione. So," she ventured, changing the subject, "what about you? Ron still not speaking to you?"

Hermione sighed. "No. I think he's sworn me off for good this time. Not that I'd blame him, really."

"I'd think you'd be glad for the breathing room, actually," Ginny said. "It's his own fault he was such an arse in the first place."

"Don't say that," Hermione chided. "It wasn't his fault entirely. I just can't be with him the way he wants me to; we're too different. But I do still want to be friends. I miss him, believe it or not."

Ginny eyed her thoughtfully. "Well," she mused, "if you really do want Ron speaking to you again, you just have to make him angry enough that he can't help it."

"What?" Hermione asked in horror. "Ginny, fighting is what got us into this mess in the first place. I hardly think..."

"Hermione, nothing drives Ron into action faster than his anger. And what makes Ron angry more than anything else?"

Hermione frowned. "Finding you in a broom cupboard with some boy?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No... you!"

"Well, yes," Hermione said exasperatedly. "That's the problem, isn't it?"

"When was the first time he started to admit he had feelings for you?" Ginny asked, waiting only a moment before answering, "At the Yule Ball, when you had that horrible fight over Viktor, remember?"

"Yes, but..."

"When was the first time he kissed you?" Ginny went on. "After your fight over the Apparition Test."

"So, you think if I pick a fight with him, he'll start talking to me again? Oh, Ginny, I don't know. That sounds like asking for trouble."

"Well, he is a Weasley," she smirked. "Sometimes, you have to take drastic measures."

Hermione exhaled tiredly. "I'll think about it. Well," she said, standing, "I'd better go. Get some rest, okay? We can't have the next Head Girl falling down on the job."

Ginny smiled. "Yeah, I wish. Thanks for stopping by. It was good to talk; we don't do enough of that these days."

Hermione returned the smile and left, closing the door softly behind her. The moon had risen fully now and the room glowed with a ghostly light. Ginny rose and resumed her position at the window.

"You did well not to tell your little friend about me," the voice of Tom Riddle said, invading her thoughts for the second time that night.

"I didn't do it for you," Ginny shot back at him. "I did it because there is nothing to tell. You have no hold over me, Tom. We both know that."

There was a pause, and Ginny thought perhaps he had left, but she was mistaken.

"If you say so," he replied mockingly, and she had to make a conscious effort to remain detached from his attempts at drawing her into an argument. "Now, where were we?"

"We were nowhere," she said.

"Really? And I was just beginning to think you were enjoying our little excursions."

She looked out the window to the grounds below and shivered, longing and common sense fighting against one another as if they were two separate entities being housed in one body. With a grunt, she tore her gaze away and focused on getting ready for bed, putting away her clothes, and tidying her desk until the longing faded into the darkness completely. With her mind temporarily at rest, she sank into her bed and was overtaken by sleep.

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys are great.