Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Ships:
Harry and Hermione and Ron/Harry and Hermione and Ron
Characters:
Harry Potter Hermione Granger Ron Weasley
Genres:
Romance Friendship
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Prizoner of Azkaban Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 11/25/2003
Updated: 11/25/2003
Words: 3,198
Chapters: 1
Hits: 998

Strangely Comforting

Lissie89

Story Summary:
Malfoy so nicely reminds Harry of the fact that it's his fault Sirius is dead. It's up to Ron and Hermione to comfort him. Wherein Ginny always knows... H/R/Hr.

Chapter Summary:
Malfoy so nicely reminds Harry of the fact that it's his fault Sirius is dead. It's up to Ron and Hermione to comfort him. Wherein Ginny always knows... A H/R/Hr one-shot.
Posted:
11/25/2003
Hits:
998
Author's Note:
This is H/R/Hr, meaning it includes slash and a threesome. If you’re offended by that, don’t read. If you have nothing against that or if you support that ship, please read, enjoy and review! Simons Flower, to respond to your question, I dedicate this fic to you, for seducing me to the Dark side of Trio fics. A huge thanks and several hugs to my beta, Rickman'sGirl-15!


HERMIONE

Hogwarts; a History, Hogwarts; a History, Hogwarts; a History, How To... No. No, no, no, no, no, I don't need those. It's horrible, really. The biggest library I have ever seen and not even one copy of Hogwarts; a History Volume 2.

Silently and without much thought to it, I wonder if this day can get any worse. First, I woke up ten minutes too late, meaning I had not time to eat. I mean, I couldn't just skip a revision two hours before a test, now could I? Then, Ron almost got us too late at Charms. Next, professor McGonagall told us there will be no test. I'd been studying for that for about... Merlin knows how long, and then she told us dead plainly we wouldn't have a test! During lunch, Malfoy seemed to think it's funny to 'communicate' with Harry in a way only we'd understand. First, he drew a dog, held up the parchment at, of course, the very moment Harry looked up from his plate. Second picture, a dog near a veil. Third picture, a dog near a veil being decapitated by a lightning bolt - Malfoy's way of saying 'nice one, Potter, getting your Godfather killed'.

Of course, Harry didn't give in to Malfoy and it seemed as if Malfoy's reminder didn't bother Harry. Ron and I knew better than that. Because we had the afternoon off, we went to the Common Room. Well, Ron and I did, Harry skipped to his bedroom. We figured we'd give him some time alone and do some homework. That's how I ended up here. Looking for some information on how the history of Goblins affected Hogwarts.

As I pack my bag, I wonder how Harry's doing, wonder if Ron's talked to him, wonder if he's already out of his room. Probably not, he didn't even come to dinner. I walk through the corridor and think of them again. Anger surges through me as I remind myself of how Malfoy can make Harry feel the guilt we helped him get rid of.

I open the Portrait Hole and I spot Ron, who's currently engrossed in a chess match against... well, I'm guessing himself. He then sees me too.

"Want to play?" he asks me. I smile. Ron's sitting on the couch, legs crossed, chessboard in front of him, looking up at me with those sweet, big, blue eyes, asking me to play chess against him.

"Why, you'll win anyway," I tell him as I sit down on the other side of the board.

"Yeah, probably." For a moment, I could've sworn I saw that boyish glint in his eyes again, the one that we hardly see anymore. He puts away the chessboard.

"How's Harry?" I ask as I finally manage to position myself against his chest.

"Refuses to open the door. Maybe you should try to talk to him. You're better at talking." I say nothing. We just sit here, partly being worried and sad for Harry, partly being happy to be together, and partly missing our third. The last one eventually convinces me to go check on him. As I tell Ron, now standing besides the couch, he holds my hand and looks me in the eye, knowing the amount of luck I'm going to need to get in there.

As I make a beeline for the staircase to the boys' dormitories, I pass Ginny, who puts up an encouraging smile. She knows. She always knows. I'm thinking about what to say to him, while slowly climbing the stairs. I never really know what's going on in his mind exactly. Of course, I know this has to do with the guilt he feels towards Sirius, but is that all? Maybe there's more. Maybe there's more, and I'm not able to help him.

I knock on Harry's door. No answer. I knock again. Still no answer. I take the silence as a permission to come in. So much for that big amount of luck I thought I'd need... I open the door and quickly take in the sight in front of me before turning to silently close the door. As I turn around again, facing Harry's bed, that sight hasn't changed. I can see Harry lying on the covers of his bed. He lies on his side, his back towards me.

"Harry?" Nothing. I sigh, probably not loud enough for Harry to hear. I walk around the bed to face him, but I'm not prepared for the sight.

Harry, my Harry, the famous Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Never-Combs-His-Hair, looks at me with eyes that say 'I killed him, I betrayed them, and I endangered you'. The look on his face tells me that if he wasn't so damn stubborn, he'd be crying now.

His captivating green gaze falls upon me. Green meets brown. Soul meets soul. At that moment, it's like I fully understand him, know his pain, know his love. And so I feel the fear, anger and guilt he thinks he deserves. Then, he looks away.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and take his hand in mine. Unlike someone might expect from a Quidditch player, his hands are soft. I lazily draw circles on the back of his hand, when suddenly he fully takes my hand in his.

He's affraid.

Harry's affraid of a lot of things, some of which I don't know, and it hurts me more than I can say. So I say nothing. Instead, I lie down next to him. Our foreheads touch and I can see every single line near the corners of his eyes, which I'd all memorized long before I ever got this close to him.

He doesn't move, I don't move, our foreheads still touch, he still holds my hand. And it's all strangely comforting.

RON

Fifteen minutes ago, I was playing chess. Truthfully, I was just bored... and worried. During lunch, Stupid Bouncing Ferret had to go show off the fact he's got no talent for drawing. Too bad Harry noticed that as well. It was a given that, as soon as we'd get to the Common Room, Harry'd go to his room. He did. I figured I'd better leave him for a while, so, of course, Hermione thought it was best to do homework. She went to the library, and I uncharacteristicly tried to do homework. I failed. I was hungry and I wanted to get to Harry. After dinner, Hermione returned to the library and I played chess, but I still wanted to get to Harry.

I wanted to get to Harry, but I knew he needed some time alone. And even if he'd had his time alone, and might be ready for company, I'm not very good at talking.

Just then, Hermione came back in, her face set on furious. I asked her if she wanted to play. Yes, I know, not the first thing you'd ask a furious person, but I realized that not until I'd already asked. She smiled. She was furious, I asked her to play chess, and she smiled! She doesn't even like chess! She always looses, so she doesn't like it. I figured there had to be something grave on her mind before, if a stupid question like that can make her laugh. Laugh about chess. She doesn't like chess. She always looses.

Apparently, Hermione seemed to think the same thing, for she then told me she didn't want to play.

"How's Harry?" she asked me as she slips against my chest. So that was on her mind. Stupid Bouncing Ferret. The-Boy-Who-Combs-His-Hair-Too-Often. I don't believe his hair is gelled back. No, he just combs his hair so often, it's now greasy enough to stay the way he combs it.

I told her how Harry's doing and how she should probably go up to talk to him. I'd be no good for talking.

Now, ten minutes later, I realize I don't have to be. Harry's never been much of a talker, why would he now? I'll be more surprised to find the two of them talking than I'll be when I find them snogging. OK, so the two of them snogging usually isn't weird, it would be now. Harry's not one to comfort himself with Hermione... or me... or both... I feel my cheeks burn at that thought.

Ginny snickers.

I look up, offended, to see her looking in my direction. As I pass her, walking to the staircase, ready to face Harry and help Mione, her face grows serious. She knows. She always knows.

I open the door to my room, close it as soon as I'm in, and turn to face them. Both of them are lying on the covers, on their sides, Harry's back towards me. I can see Hermione, though. She has her eyes fixed on Harry's, her hand in Harry's, and an expression that tells me exactly how Harry's feeling. I know that to most people, it makes no sense, saying it like that. But it does to me. Now, I'm feeling it too. The fear, the pain, and the guilt... and a strangely comforting feeling - love.

Hermione briefly looks me in the eye, but long enough for me to notice a look in her eyes I hadn't noticed yet. The look carries a message. A message not understandable for anyone but us. I can read it. They're missing something. Now I'm confused. But then, I see the two of them lying there, and it's one of the more precious moments. Not because of the fact that they're together, but because of the fact - and I just realized it - that they need me.

I walk over to the bed and sit down, looking at them. I can now somewhat see Harry's face, but I can't see his eyes. I don't have to. I know how he feels. Harry sighs. The first time since lunch I've heard him. I stroke his cheek with my thumb, then stroke her hair off Hermione's cheek. Her eyes catch me again, still loaded with fear, anger and pain, but with a different expression in them this time.

As I lay myself behind Harry, on my side, my head resting on my left arm, my elbow settled just behind Harry's head my right arm around Harry's waist, the expression is Hermione's eyes becomes more peaceful. She gives Harry a soft kiss on the nose as I give him soft kisses in his neck and shoulder. I can feel Harry relax. A sharp intake of breath can be heard when I kiss that one spot in his neck. Whether it came from Harry or Mione, I don't know. Surprisingly, as I look at Hermione again, she's smiling. So is Harry. I can't see it. I just know it, feel it, somehow. I smile too.

He doesn't move, she doesn't move, I don't move, their foreheads still touch, he still holds her hand, my arm's still around his waist, my head still nestled over his shoulder. And it's all strangely comforting.

HARRY

It wasn't He-Who's-Not-Worth-Naming, Stupid Bouncing Ferret. No, it was the fact that I'd almost forgotten. Forgotten it's my fault Sirius is now dead. Forgotten I disappointed my parents. Forgotten it's my fault Ron nearly lost his mind and Hermione nearly lost her life... several times.

They don't know this. They think it's Malfoy. They think that because Malfoy says it's my fault, I think it's my fault. They're wrong. The reason I'm up here is that I had forgotten. I'm almost thankful of Blonde Snape Jr. Thankful for reminding me.

I've been here for the entire afternoon. I wanted to be left alone. I didn't want to talk. They didn't understand me, so why talk? They didn't understand me, so why let them comfort me?

Then I hear Hermione knock. I knew that was Hermione. I just knew. She knocks again. I don't say anything. If I desperately wanted to keep them out, I'd have locked the door. If she wanted to come in, let her come in. She'd see. She'd see that really there wasn't much to do here. No reason trying to talk to me. No reason for trying to comfort me. Simply because I figured they didn't understand me.

She came in. After a moment she called my name. Then sighed. Yeah, I heard it, Mione. You don't know, but I watch your every move, listen to your every move. I have to. I don't want to lose her either. I'm afraid I do if I let her slip out of my sight.

Next, she was standing in front of me. I didn't look at her. She intensely gazed at me. I could see out of the corner of my eyes she was. I couldn't take it. The one I love, one of the two, actually, was standing in front of me, probably willing to do everything I'd ask her, I didn't even have the decency to look at her.

I shifted my gaze to hers. Just then did I realize how she's looking at me. For a moment I could see her soul, as unbelievable as that might sound. I realized she was able to 'read' my mind, as if she did Legilimency on me without any magic. It scared me to think what kind of love could only do that. I'm not even seventeen, and I've found love with two people. Love that some people search for their whole lives, yet never find it. I look away.

She sat down on the bed and took my hand in hers. I felt safe. She started circling her finger on the back of my hand. This felt good. I then realized again I never want to loose her. I took her hand in mine, afraid to loose her if I didn't.

Hermione said nothing. Instead, she lay down next to me. Our foreheads touched and I could see the hazel sparks floating in the dark brown of her irises. My mind is suddenly filled with another feeling. A different one than the others. This one is strangely comforting - love.

I then heard the door open. I had a feeling that was Ron. As I looked in Hermione's eyes, I knew I was right. A new feeling crept in my mind, the feeling that we needed him. Ron was looking at us, confused first, understanding later. I suddenly realized I'd been wrong before. I thought they didn't understand me. They do. They might not know exactly what's going on in my mind, but they do understand me. More than enough to help me.

How I knew all that, even though I had my back to Ron? Well, in our triangle, I'm the one with my heart inside of me. Ron's the one 'wearing his heart on his sleeve'. That was all clear as soon as we became friends. For five years, however, we had thought Hermione was an exception, that she doesn't show her emotions at all, but we were wrong. Her eyes tell us as much as Ron's expressions - and that's saying something.

Ron walked over to us, I could hear. He sat down, looking at us intensely. I felt his eyes upon me. He was at the point of understanding all. Finally. I sigh. He then stroked my cheek with his thumb, before stroking Hermione's hair out of her face. Their eyes lock again, and I know. I know they feel my fear, anger and pain, but I hope they can also feel the love I feel for them.

Ron lay down behind me, his head near mine, his arm on my waist. I felt the guilt, anger, pain and fear slipping from my mind as I realized what they were doing. Hermione kissed my nose as Ron kissed my neck. I was taken by surprise by Ron, when he kissed that one spot in my neck. As I opened my eyes, I was smiling, so was Hermione, and I just knew that Ron was too.

Suddenly, as Hermione's eyes lock with mine, happiness shining from them, I realize that Hermione looks just like the eleven year old we saved from the troll, beaming up at us. I grin. Hermione's expression then ages five years in half a second, glaring. She knows what I'm thinking, and she doesn't like it, partly because it's a good way to tease her with the fact that I'm now a firm 4 inches taller than her, just like back in first year. I look apologeticallly, but can't help smiling. Ron laughs and Hermione's glare shifts to Ron, but I can see the smile hiding behind it.

"You know," she tells us. "I really can't stay here too long." I knew what she meant. Dean, Seamus and Neville had all accepted our... rather different relation. They even said they would have no problem with it if we want to spend a private afternoon or evening in our room. Seamus and Neville wouldn't even mind us spending the night. Dean doesn't either, but he so nicely reminded me, 'hell, Harry, you could be having sex with gorilla and I wouldn't care, I just don't like the idea of a girl in the room where I change from normal clothes to my PJ's, where I undress, where I sometimes sleep in my boxers... or less.' I remember Ron's ears turning red at those last words.

"We'll come with you," Ron answers her. I smile. Without any words we agree to go down to the Common Room, take some blankets, and wait till everybody goes to bed, and then try to get some sleep.

As we walk down the stairs, Hermione takes my hand in hers. Ron, who so desperately wanted to carry the blankets, puts those on the chair next to our favourite couch, the one in front of the fireplace. Then Ginny comes through the Portrait Hole, and Ron raises an eyebrow at her, as if asking where she'd been. I have a strong feeling she took a trip to the Astronomy Tower, but I wisely decide to keep my mouth shut. Last year, I was the subject of one of her Bat Bogey Hexes... Ginny, too, decides not to say anything. Instead, she gives us the same look. I look at her, incredulous. There is no possibility she can see the blankets. I know I shouldn't be surprised. She knows. She always knows.

An hour later, the Common Room is entirely deserted, except for the three of us. Ron is leaning on the arm of the couch, fast asleep, his hand in my hair. My head is in Ron's lap, as Hermione's sleeping on my chest. Absentmindedly, I'm fumbling with her bushy hair. I'm awake, but that's OK.

He doesn't move, she doesn't move, I do move, just not much. His left hand is still in my hair. His right still on her waist, over my fingers. Her left hand is under her head. Her right on my chest. My right hand is on her waist, under Ron's fingers as my left is still fumbling with her hair.

But it's all strangely comforting.


Author notes: Please review. Thanks.