A Bittersweet Kiss

Hermione watched Harry leave. Harry loves me, she thought in amazement. He does! He came here and he kissed me and he told me himself! And I wasn't just imagining. She frowned. Was I? She settled her book down and pinched herself, fascinated by the indentations it left on her skin. No. Harry does love me. This complicated things.

Hermione got up, clutching Hogwarts, A History to her chest and running to her room. She placed it back on her shelf and tried to ignore the beating of her heart as she walked towards the boys' dormitory. She knocked on the door.

Usually one of them would holler, "come on in," but today there was no sound. Hermione was about to turn around when she heard the door open. Harry's green eyes peered at her. He let himself out and shut the door behind him. "Ron's still sleeping, he explained rather nervously, look at his hands and then his feet and the ceiling and just about everywhere else except at her.

"Oh. Okay then," Hermione said, feeling rather nervous as well.

"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry. I've barely let you know how I feel for an hour and already things have gotten weird between us."

"It's not that," she said softly.

"Then?"

Hermione drew in her breath. "It's just..." she broke off, trying to figure out she was holding bck what she wanted to say. How do you tell someone who has just confessed their love for you that you love them back? "Oh, for heaven's sake." She leaned forward and kissed him.

Harry kissed her back with an amazing combination of fierceness and tenderness that it brought tears to her eyes. All the words they wanted to tell each other were expressed, which was weird because not a word was being spoken. Then he pulled away from her, his eyes full of pain. No, Hermione," he whispered. "Ron is just behind this door. I know how close the two of you are, and I know how close we both are. And all three of us are close. As friends. And that's all we can ever be."

"And you know how I feel about you," he told her, running his fingers through her hair. "But you understand why we can't be together."

"I understand," she said bitterly. "I understand all too well." She placed her hand on his cheek. "But why, Harry?"

"I didn't know you returned my feelings. I thought you were in love with Ron."

"Ron?!" she asked incredulously, as if he had suggested loving Crabbe or Goyle. "I do love Ron. I love him the way I love my own brother."

"You don't have a brother," Harry whispered into her ear.

"I know," she told him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her waist. "But if I did, that's how I would love him."

"I see," Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

"Couldn't we be together in secret?" Hermione asked.

"No. If Ron ever found out..."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Half of her wanted Harry to let her go because the longer she stayed in his arms, the harder it would be for her to leave. The other half of her wanted Harry to tighten his grip on her. This half wanted him to sweep her off her feet and fly her off into the sunset and kiss her and never let her go. "Kiss me one last time," she said. "And then we better go our own ways."

Harry kissed her, a bittersweet kiss. Hermione knew they were both cursing Ron inside their heads. Some people searched their entire lives for love, and Harry and Hermione had found each other. What kind of best friend took that away from them? Hermione also knew that they were both feeling horrible for cursing Ron. "I love you, Hermione," he told her. "Don't you ever forget it." He removed his arms away from her waist and kissed her forehead. "You better go," he said.

"Yeah..." she turned around and heard Harry go back into the room. Sadly, she started walking back towards the girls' dormitory. She heard the door open and stopped, hoping with everthing she had in her that it was Harry. She turned around and saw a pair of blue eyes staring back at her. Ron was staring at her with an intensity in his eyes she had never seen before. "Ron!" There was no use in denying the facts: Ron had seen and heard everything, or enough of it to know what was going on. "Ron, I can explain."

"Don't bother," he told her, his voice thick, before going back inside and shutting the door.