What Harry Did

Harry stretched lazily as he woke up. He rolled over and saw Ron still fast asleep, a serene smile on his face. Thinking of chocolate frogs, no doubt, Harry thought, grinning. He had been seeing Hermione in his dreams again. In his dream, like so many times before, he had told her he loved her. And since it was his dream, she had always responded with the same warm smile in her eyes and the same "I love you, too, Harry," and the same gentle kiss. Reality, however, was a different question.

Get a clue, Potter, he lectured himself. Just tell her. What's the worst that can happen? If she's in love with you, then it's all well and good. And if she's in love with Ron, then be a man and be happy for them both. You've known her for years, why is this so hard for you?

Knowing Hermione would be awake, and most likely reading Hogwarts, a History, for the thousandth time, he got out of bed and quickly changed into something more decent than Hogwarts pajamas. In a rush, he ran his comb through his hair. Well, that's a waste of time, he grumbled to himself, as his hair didn't look any different. He looked again at Ron, his flaming hair perfect even in sleep.

"Hi, 'Mione," he greeted her, seeing that she had in fact been reading Hogwarts, A History as predicted. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," she said, returning her "Keep your teeth clean" bookmark into her book and closing it.

Harry drew in his breath nervously. "There's something I need to tell you."

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Go ahead."

With another deep breath, Harry began to talk. "Well... you and me and Ron...um... well, we've known each other for a long time. We've been through a lot together, the three of us. You both are my best friends. If I should die in the war with Voldemort, I will die knowing that I have experienced true friendship."

"What does Voldemort have to do with this?" Hermione wanted to know.

"This has nothing to do with Voldemort," Harry told her, gaining confidence. "This has to do with me. And you." He looked for any sort of reaction, but found nothing. "When I look back on our adventures, I always see Ron. But there were things, events or adventures, call them what you will, that were just the two of us. Like the potions bottles that almost stopped us from getting to the Sorcerer's Stone. And the talks when you were Petrified. I know you couldn't respond, but still... anyway, and Hagrid and his baby giant and Professor Umbridge kicking me off of the Quidditch team. And the owls over the long and lonely summers. Hermione, you were what kept me going."

"Well, I... I mean, we're friends. Right? I mean, that's... that's simply what friends do."

"No." He took her hand in his and kissed it. "Hermione Granger, sometimes in the past six years, and I'm not quite sure when, I realized something: I love you."

All the color drained from her face as she gasped in shock. "What?"

"Yes. But there's more. Ron's my best friend, and even though he won't admit it, I know that he loves you, too. And what kind of friend would I be if I could not even let him have the one thing he wants: you." Harry chuckled sadly. "Everyone expects you and Ron to get together someday. Who am I to interfere with destiny? I had actually planned on never telling you, but we're friends. Friends tell each other everything. But don't you worry, Hermione, I won't let anything upset you and Ron, my self included. I promised myself that I would renounce my love for you if Ron at anytime told me he had feelings for you. And I admit now that no matter how hard I try, I cannot get you out of my head or my heart. So I will continue to love you at a distance. I will always be here for you, Hermione. I will always be your friend."

Hermione just stared at him, unable to say anything. Had her breathing not been visible, Harry would have thought she had been Petrified again.

Harry handed her her book back. She took it from him, playing with her bookmark. Harry turned around, his robes billowing behind him. Once he was out of Hermione's field of vision, he wiped a stray tear from his eye. He crawled back into bed, as not to disturb Ron. As he took of his glasses, he pictured Hermione still downstairs, her book still unopened in her hand. He realized that Hermione has said nothing. Maybe she didn't love him back. Or maybe she did. For a while, Harry envisioned himself locking Hermione in a passionate embrace, holding her and kissing her and never letting her go.

Then he saw Ron, still sleeping. Every time Harry closed his eyes to kiss Hermione, he knew he would see himself stabbing Ron in the back. The thoughts of Ron's normally cheerful blue eyes losing their spark nearly broke Harry's heart in two. No, he told himself. It's just better this way.