Taboo

Ron fled from Hogsmeade, blindly following the path back to the castle. He kept running until his legs gave out and he collapsed in the snow, panting. He flipped over onto his back, and upon seeing the goal posts towering above him, realized that he was at the Quidditch pitch. He could see the little puffs his breathe made in the air. As his heart slowed its pace, he slowly got up and trudged towards the nearest goalpost. He leaned against it and closed his eyes. He heard the crunching of footsteps across the snow and hoped it was Malfoy so he could punch his stupid face in.

"Ron?" called a timid, female voice. His eyes snapped open and Lavender stood before him, holding his coat out to him. "You left this."

"Thanks," he grunted. He could see Ginny and Harry approaching in the distance. Moments later they arrived, out of breath.

"There you are," said Ginny, as she caught up to Harry.

"I want to be alone," said Ron, closing his eyes again. Ginny and Harry exchanged meaningful looks.

"Don't do anything stupid," cautioned Ginny. She whispered something to Lavender, who cleared her throat.

"I'll just leave this here..." said Lavender, gingerly setting the coat beside his feet. She gave him an anxious glance and followed Ginny and Harry back to the castle.

When they were gone, he slid down to the ground with his back against the post, drawing his knees up to his chest. He was wet and freezing cold, but he didn't care. Images of Hermione swam through his mind: the first day on the train...Hermione lying still and lifeless in the hospital wing...the day she bought Crookshanks...the Yule Ball and Viktor Krum...the Ministry of Magic... The memories flashed faster and faster until they blurred. Then the torrent gradually slowed, and he was reliving the afternoon in the teashop.

"He's giving her something...it looks like jewelry..."

He saw the glint of silver, her smile...

"They're going to kiss!"

His heart raced as they leaned forward. No, don't do it, don't do it...please don't do it...

Their lips touched and he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but he could not make himself look away. He could only stare in stiff horror. He felt like he was going to vomit.

"I believe she was mine before she was yours..."

"No, she wasn't, you sodding scumbag!" his mind screamed. "She's mine! She was always mine!" And yet he could not ignore the fact that it was Malfoy she was here with, not him.

He stood up and tilted his face up to the sky.

"DAMN YOU, DRACO MALFOY!" he bellowed. "I LOVE HER! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU SLIMY GIT? I LOVE HER!" He yelled so loudly that he thought his throat might tear. Breathing hard, he aimed a kick at the goalpost, which only resulted in a sharp pain in his big toe. He cursed loudly as he hobbled about, his toe throbbing. He scooped up his coat from the ground and went inside, where he took a scalding hot shower.

-----------------------------

Meanwhile, Malfoy had escorted Hermione back to the castle.

"Where are you going?" he asked, as they rounded a corner. "Your common room is the other way."

"I'm not going to Gryffindor Tower," said Hermione, not slowing her stride. "I want to be alone." Moments later, they arrived in front of the Room of Requirement. She paced before the blank wall and grasped the doorknob when it appeared.

"Are you going to be alright?" He scrutinized her concernedly.

"I'll be fine," she answered in a steady voice, pushing open the door. She paused for a second and turned back to Malfoy. "I think I'm going to spend the night here."

"Won't the others worry about you?"

"They'll be looking for me, that's for sure. But I don't feel up to answering questions right now."

"I don't want to go back to my common room either," admitted Malfoy. "It's going to be complete hell."

"You should at least talk to Pansy first," she said pointedly. "I wonder if she knows yet."

"They aren't back from Hogsmeade yet, but she'll probably know by dinnertime. News travels fast," he said, laughing dryly. They said their goodbyes and Hermione shut the door.

This time the room resembled her bedroom at home, only more spacious. There was a large bed in the corner, a well-equipped writing desk, several bookcases, a wardrobe, and even a small bathroom. She changed out of her Muggle clothing into a floaty nightgown. Not in the mood to wear socks or slippers, she left her feet bare. She climbed onto the bed and slipped under the simple, white sheets.

She closed her eyes and let the memories flood her mind.

They were playing Quidditch at the Burrow, Harry and Ginny versus her and Ron.

"Left, go left!" shouted Ron.

"You're leaving the goal open!"

"Score!" cheered Ginny. Ron scowled.

"See? If you had been paying attention--"

"If you knew how to fly!"

The scene dissolved and they were in Hogwarts.

"...such a know-it all..."

"I think she heard you."

"So?" She brushed past Harry and Ron, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The scene changed again. Now they were in the common room, the fire burning bright in front of them.

"Hermione, I-I've always liked you..."

"I'm sorry, Ron," she thought. "I'm already taken."

"...and I want to be with you..."

"...I love you..." She kissed him a feeling of betrayal seeping into her mind. "I've always loved you..." Guilt, unbearable guilt. He's so happy, she'd thought as Ron danced around the common room. Why should I spoil it by finishing my sentence? And so the words "but I'm in love with someone else" were never said.

A tear slid down her face as she hugged the pillow to her chest.

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Hermione did not show up to dinner, which was probably for the best, as Malfoy had been right: news did travel fast. It spread like a wildfire as students gossiped about Valentine's Day scandals.

"Oh my God. No. Way."

"Yes way! I saw it with my very own eyes," declared a fourth year Hufflepuff.

"Hey, Harry, is it true?" asked Seamus, as he passed the gravy. "I heard you were there."

"Yes," admitted Harry grudgingly. He looked over at Ron, who was staring despondently at his mashed potatoes. He poked at them with his fork.

After dinner, Malfoy entered the Slytherin common room, hoping to escape the plethora of questions that were being directed toward him. As he approached his favorite armchair by the fireplace, he found it already occupied.

"I've been waiting for you," said Pansy sweetly, a sure sign of danger.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said wearily, making for the stairs.

"Oh, but I do," she said, moving to block his way. Sighing, he sat down in the chair opposite her. "Now," she said, her voice hardening. "Explain."

"There's nothing to explain," he said with a shrug. "I love her."

"That's what you told me last year," she said accusingly, pointing a manicured finger at him. She imitated his voice: "'I love you, Pansy. I promise I'll never leave you.' Isn't that what you said?"

"I said I wouldn't leave you, and I didn't."

"So you cheated on me?" she said shrilly. "With that--that Mudblood!"

"Don't call her that," he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"oh, you're defending her now?" shrieked Pansy. "Tell me, how long have you been going out?"

"Today was the second time we actually 'went out,'" he said, emphasizing the words "went out."

"So you think you love her after two measly dates?" She paused for a second, looking pensive. "Wait a second...you've been meeting each other secretly?"

"You could say that."

"How long?" she demanded, eyes flashing with anger.

"Since the beginning of the school year," he said calmly.

"Oh. My. God." She stood up and paced in front of the fire. "So you've been going out with her since this school year... How many other girls are you seeing?"

"None," he said truthfully. She continued to pace. Was this his opportunity to escape? He rose from his chair hopefully.

"I heard you gave her a ring," said Pansy, suddenly rounding on him. "You never bought me an jewelry."

"It was a necklace," he corrected, "and I bought you roses on your birthday."

"Only because I asked you to," she snarled.

"Can I go now?"

"I'm not finished with you," she snapped. He sank back into his chair. "You stayed her for Christmas. I always thought that was odd. She stayed too..." said Pansy, putting two-and-two together. "Oh no, oh no...you didn't, you totally didn't...did you sleep with her?" she screeched. He wasn't going to respond to that one. Thankfully, she answered her own question. "No...she wouldn't...she's not the type...oh, thank God for that..." She stared into the fire broodingly. "You bastard!" She lunged at him, hitting him with her fists.

"Stop, Pansy!" he protested weakly, shielding his face. Now he understood why the other boys were afraid of her: she could really pack a punch. "Ow, stop!"

"You--stinking--aargh!" She gave his face one last resounding slap and stomped away, frustrated by her own inability to come up with adequate swear words.

"Is it over?" Blaise peeked out from the staircase. Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind him, their bulky bodies casting oddly shaped shadows on the dungeon walls. "We could hear it all the way from upstairs."

"She hit me," said Malfoy disbelievingly, touching his cheek, which still stung. "She hit me."

"You're face is kind of red," said Goyle, pointing.

"I can't believe she hit me," repeated Malfoy.

"Did it hurt?"

"No," he lied, not wanting to admit that it had. Why did the only girls he'd ever formally dated have to hit him?