Never Feel the Break

Harry’s not sure how it happens exactly. It’s a few hours after the Yule Ball, and the castle has that quiet feel to it, like if he even breathes too loudly, he’ll shatter something sacred. (It almost reminds him of the one and only time the Durlsey’s took him to church. He looked around the huge building with the stained glass windows and felt, for a moment, like even though this was clearly a place where everyone was allowed to belong, no one was really perfect enough to fit there.)

He is walking around under his invisibility cloak - he had just needed to get out of the Common Room - when he hears some noises coming from some abandoned classroom. He feels a little stupid as he approaches the door quietly, but if there’s one thing the wizarding world has taught Harry, it’s that some doors are closed for a reason.

When he gets a little closer though, he realizes that the door is opened, just a crack. He pushes the door open slowly, carefully - then he sees Hermione. Harry glances around the classroom, instinctively, before slipping off his invisibility cloak. Hermione is sitting on the ground, right next to a desk and a chair that seems perfectly okay, but it’s almost as though she had just crumpled there.

“Hermione,” Harry says, looking at her long and hard. She is still in her dress from the ball, still all made up, but now her makeup is running from her tears. Hermione stiffens where she is, her whole form changing from broken to hard as a rock. He actually sees her hand slip into her pocket for a moment, like she’s reaching for her wand, to curse whoever has disturbed her, before she turns around, looks at him, and just breathes. The tension pours out of her a moment later, and it’s almost like Harry imagined it in the first place.

“Harry,” Hermione says. “What are you doing here?” She doesn’t move to sit up, just kind of indicates to him that it’s okay for him to join her. He knows something has happened, something bad, so he does. He doesn’t sit on a chair, just sinks right down next to her.

“I was walking around,” he said, holding up his cloak. “I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard…” he doesn’t want to say you crying so he just trails off right there, like a silly boy who cannot articulate anything.

“Oh.” She laughs, then, but it doesn’t sound like her, it sounds intentionally airy and light, like those girls Harry remembers from primary school that used to trade hair ties and secrets, only to tell the secrets to everyone the moment their friend left. He didn’t understand it then, and he doesn’t understand it now.

He waits, and it doesn’t take long: “I don’t mean to put you in an awkward position Harry, and I don’t mean this like some kind of horrid romance novel line, it’s just -” Hermione chokes then, on what Harry thinks may be a sob - “do you think I’m ugly?”

Harry wants to say, “No, of course not,” immediately, because it’s true - he has never once thought of Hermione as ugly. But he knows that’s not what she wants, that maybe that’s not even what this is about, so he waits, then says, “Hermione, you know I don’t.”

Hermione lifts her hand then and covers a laugh, that may have been another sob. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know I’m being silly. It’s just - Ron… I just don’t think he’ll ever… and I don’t know why, because we’re best friends, so it can’t be that he doesn’t like my personality.”

Harry feels a lump appear in his throat then. Ron is his best friend in the entire world, but then - so is Hermione, and he understands exactly what she means. Sometimes, it’s like no matter how much you connect with a person, they will never really, truly see you.

It happens to Harry every single day.

“Hermione, Ron’s just… he just…” Harry says, and he wants to say that Ron is stupid, that he’s just some dumb teenage boy who doesn’t yet know what he wants, but how can he possibly say bad things about Ron - his best friend.

A long moment passes before there is a laugh, and this time it sounds like Hermione is trying to laugh her thoughts away. “Oh, I’m just being silly. Just because we’re best friends, doesn’t mean he likes me -” and then Harry makes a face, because even though Ron won’t admit it, he knows that Ron is crazy about Hermione, absolutely crazy - “oh, don’t be like that, Harry. I was just being self-piteous, but I’m done now.

“I just… sometimes, I need to be a girl, you understand, right? I spend all my time with you and Ron, and that’s fine, that’s truly, wonderfully fine. But sometimes I need to go to a dance and dress up and cry because the boy I like might never like me back.”

Harry doesn’t say anything then, because he knows he’s not supposed to.

Then - there is moonlight streaming in the window and Hermione is wearing a pretty dress, and sometimes, Hermione needs to be a crying girl, so sometimes Harry needs to just be a stupid boy.

He’s not sure how it happens exactly, who leans in first, but suddenly his lips are on Hermione’s. It’s not some horrid romance line, but it’s nice. He waits for Hermione to pull away, and when she doesn’t - when he doesn’t feel himself pulling away either - he leans in a little closer.

Why shouldn’t Harry have nice things happen to him?

///

They don’t have sex, don’t fuck in some abandoned classroom like a bunch of stupid hormonal teenagers.

He does kiss her for a long time though, and Hermione doesn’t ever move away; or maybe it’s Hermione who’s kissing him and Harry who is not moving away. He’s not really sure.

Cho likes Cedric, and Cedric has Cho. Ron likes Hermione, even though he may never admit it, and even though Harry’s the one kissing Hermione, he knows that Hermione doesn’t really like him, and he’s not really sure he likes Hermione either.

All Harry knows is that as strange as he thought kissing Hermione would be (and yes, he is a boy, so he has thought of it once or twice), it’s not really. It’s not like fireworks exploding, but it feels good, and Hermione was crying before, but she isn’t anymore.

In a world where Harry has had very few truly happy moments, he hopes to God that he will count this as one of them.

///

The next morning is a bit like the night before. Through no real clear decision-making on his own part, he waits for Hermione to go down to breakfast. Ron grumbles a lot and seems a little pissed off by the whole thing, but he doesn’t want to walk alone, so he waits for Hermione too.

When she finally walks down into the common room, back to the same confident Hermione she’s always been, Ron whirls around without looking at her and walks towards the entrance. Harry follows him, and Hermione follows them both. Ron is walking long, quick strides, so Harry slows down for Hermione. He can’t quite look at her normally, because he doesn’t really know what last night means.

She reassures him though, and somehow, she slips her hand into his as they walk into the Great Hall. They sit down together at the table, by Ron, who’s already served himself the start of breakfast.

Harry reaches for the pumpkin juice at the same time as Hermione. He looks at her - and they both smile.

///

They aren’t dating, don’t take long walks around the lake or make out in the Astronomy Tower later at night. But Harry has someone trying to kill him, and somehow he finds all of this rather refreshing. It’s not love, what’s happening between them, and that’s okay.

But somehow time slips away, break ends, and classes begin. In the first week back, Harry manages to spend every spare moment with Hermione.

Ron is avoiding Hermione, and Hermione is avoiding Ron, so somehow Harry doesn’t see Ron much at all. He tries to feel guilty about that when they study together in the Common Room, but there is Hermione’s hand on his knee to distract him, and the tears that she is no longer shedding to make him forget about Ron.

It’s not as though Harry and Hermione are hiding it - whatever it is - so it doesn’t take long for people to start calling them Hogwarts’ newest couple. The first time Harry hears someone say that, when they are in the library together (a place Harry no longer finds excruciating), he expects Hermione to correct them.

It has barely been two weeks since that night in the classroom, and he and Hermione haven’t really talked about any of it. He expects her to stand up, walk over to the Hufflepuffs giggling behind the book shelf by them, and say that they are not a couple.

Instead, she looks over at the direction of the giggling group, looks at Harry, and smiles. For a second, it looks like she is going to lean in and kiss him - for the first time since that night - but she doesn’t. She does, however, scoot her chair a little closer to his, grasp his hand, and blatantly put hers in his.

She leaves it there until the Hufflepuffs leave the library, no doubt planning to spread the word.

The second they are gone, Hermione looks at Harry. He is surprised to see that she looks nervous, her face a picture of distress. “Harry,” she says, removing her hand, “I think we have to talk.”

Harry feels his eyebrows rise of their own accord. “Okay?”

Hermione glances around the library, so Harry does too. It’s only then that he realizes that they aren’t alone; it’s actually kind of crowded. He gathers up their books before she can say a word, takes her hand, and leads her out of the library.

They sit in an abandoned classroom, not the same one as that night, but still Harry can’t help but thinking of what an odd situation they find themselves in.

This time, they are in chairs, so Harry can’t feel Hermione’s body right next to his, but he can still tell that she’s bothered.

“Harry… I… we’ve been spending a lot of time together and, it’s just, you’re very nice, and you’re my best friend, but I don‘t…” Hermione bites at her bottom lip and doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Harry can tell she is looking very hard for the right words, so he tries not to interrupt, but suddenly, in a flash, he realizes what it is that she’s trying to say. He can’t help it - he laughs. “Hermione, I know.”

She looks immensely relieved. “So you’re okay that we’re not actually in a relationship.”

Harry knows he should feel insulted, but he doesn’t; he feels relieved too. The last week or two have been nice, but he doesn’t love Hermione, he’s not sure he even has a crush on her. The whole time, he’s just realized, he’s been afraid she’s thought of them as something more. “Hermione, I know you like Ron,” he says, and feels bad when she winces. “I’m fine with just being whatever it is that we’ve been since break. If you are?”

She looks at him for a long moment, trying to read his face like a textbook. Then, she leaps out of her chair and throws her arms around him.

“You, Harry Potter, are the nicest not-boyfriend a girl could ask for.” Then, it’s as though she realizes how silly that sounds, and she laughs, so he laughs too.

This time, he’s not confused. She leans in and kisses him, and he kisses back.

He’s not in love with her, but he’s in love with this, the way he hasn’t thought about Voldemort trying to kill him or Sirius on the run or this damned Tournament in ages.

When they leave the classroom, Harry has his arm around Hermione’s shoulder. She doesn’t brush him off, but keeps his arm there, like it’s proof, because if there’s one thing they both like, it’s proof.

///

They may not be dating, but for the next few weeks, Harry and Hermione act like they are (minus the whole Astronomy Tower thing, of course).

They kiss and hold hands and he carries her books sometimes. They are closer than friends now, and Harry thinks it’s kind of beautiful.

///

When the second task comes around, Harry doesn’t realize it, but he hasn’t had a normal conversation with Ron for a month. It’s not intentional, not anymore. They just don’t spend time together, not really at all.

Harry sees Hermione’s body at the bottom of the lake and feels a burst of panic bubble through his stomach. He looks at the other bodies and hears a voice in his head, that sounds a lot like Hermione, saying that there’s no way they’d allow hostages to die.

He takes Hermione and swims to the top. She wakes up almost instantly and hugs him, before bursting into tears.

“Hermione, what is it?” he says, suddenly panicked.

Like it’s only just hit her, she says, low and hopeless, “Someone wants you dead, Harry.”

He hugs her tight and looks out at the crowd. He sees Ron look back at him, with a look that is half-annoyance, half-acceptance. It’s only a second before his eyes are back on Hermione, who has had a towel handed to her.

“I know, Hermione,” says Harry. “I know.”

And suddenly, he does know. For him, spending time with Hermione has been about not spending time being unhappy and focusing on all the horrible things he normally has to think about. For Hermione, he thinks, it has been about something entirely different.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says, because that’s what you’re supposed to say.

The problem is - they both know he’s lying.

His score, the highest of the group, is announced with Hermione in his arms. She buries herself in him, and he takes that for what it is. He may not love her like a girlfriend, but he will always love her like a best friend, and that’s what he thinks as she kisses him, right there, in front of the entire school.

He knows it’s just his mind over-dramatizing the moment, but for a moment, he swears the crowd is silent.

He can’t bear to look for Ron’s face.

///

Now, Ron not talking to him is intentional. Harry knows he saw something like acceptance when he looked at Ron in the stands, but Harry also knows that, even though Cedric is a perfectly nice guy, he kind of hates him too. So Harry understands.

Ron doesn’t curse him, doesn’t call him names, or do something horrible. But Harry knows the difference between drifting apart and anger, just in the way that Ron closes the curtains around his bed a little bit harder than normal, and in the fact that Ron sits at the other end of the table at meals now.

Harry knows he hasn’t been fair to Ron in all of this. He knows he should have talked to Ron that very first night. But the thing is, and Harry’s not proud of it, he kind of still resents Ron for not believing him about the Goblet. He knows he ‘forgave’ Ron, and he knows things were supposed to go back to normal, but Ron hated him for that, so why on earth should Harry have told him about Hermione?

Or at least, that’s how Harry has managed to sleep at night.

///

It’s a week before the third task when Harry finally talks to Ron. Ron is sitting under a tree on the grounds, completely by himself. Harry feels his stomach twist at that, in the months he hasn’t spent with Ron, he realizes now that Ron never really had someone else to hang out with.

Hermione is in the library, studying so hard that she didn’t really want Harry there. It’s just Ron and Harry now.

Harry sits down next to him under the tree.

“Harry,” Ron says. He hadn’t been doing anything, so - and there’s something sad about this, Harry thinks - he almost looks happy to have some company.

“Ron,” Harry replies.

The grounds are crowded with people enjoying the surprisingly good weather, but it’s silent under their tree.

Then: “So you and Hermione?” Ron observes, as though it’s news, as though he and Harry are chatting about this the day after. It’s like Ron’s beyond anger now.

“Yeah,” Harry says, not sounding proud or like he’s bragging, but saying it like it’s a fact. “Me and Hermione. How about you?”

“No,” Ron says then, sounding a tad bitter. “I’m still just me.”

Harry makes a noise of acknowledgement. It’s sad that Ron’s been alone this whole time, but a lot of it is his own fault.

“So how did it happen?” Ron asks after another moment. He’s trying, Harry realizes.

For a moment, the part of Harry that is resentful and jealous of all that Ron has wants to say that they fell madly in love, that he looked at Hermione one day and just knew.

But he’s not in love with Hermione, and Hermione’s not in love with him, and Ron is still his best friend, no matter how far they’ve gone from each other.

Suddenly, with a sensation that is both a wave of maturity and a crumpling heap of guilt, Harry realizes that Hermione and he have been hiding, ever since the Yule Ball.

Harry has never really been seen by someone, and neither has Hermione, but for the last few months, they both saw each other, and only each other. It was wonderful, so wonderful, and so stupid.

Harry looks at Ron, and realizes that his not-relationship with Hermione has broken something, something sacred. He knows what he has to say now.

“I saw her in a classroom after the Yule Ball. She was crying, because she likes you, Ron. She likes you a lot.” Harry recounts the whole story, probably betraying a lot of Hermione’s confidences, but he likes to think that she’ll forgive him.

He tells Ron everything, even the things he’s never shared with Hermione. He tells Ron that he thinks Hermione has never really felt like she fit, never felt she was good enough, and when Ron looks confused as to how Harry knows that, suddenly Harry finds himself saying things he’s never voiced out loud.

Harry tells Ron that he knows it’s been years, but he still feels like he is a Muggle-raised wizard, and sometimes he wonders if he’ll just be forever behind his classmates. There are things that he doesn’t know about this world, customs that he may never understand. He’s just a name, here in the wizarding world. There are only a handful of people who really see him, and to the rest, he is just a name - no, Harry corrects himself - more than just a name. He is a figure, propped on a pedestal, but the thing is, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to be a legend.

Harry can save a stone and Ron’s sister and rescue his godfather, but he can never really fit here.

“With Hermione, I guess it made it easier not to think about it,” Harry finishes. “Neither of us love each other, not like that. We just… we both just needed to feel like we fit somewhere.”

After that, Harry doesn’t allow Ron a chance to respond. He stands up and walks away, with big, long strides. He doesn’t look at the people on the grounds as he passes them, just walks straight into the castle, and then straight to the dorm. He feels like he might burst into tears, and that’s one thing he doesn’t want to do.

He’s not sure where all of the things he said to Ron came from, but he knows they’re true.

Harry closes the curtains and collapses on his bed. Tonight, well, tonight he needs to think.

Just him, no escape.

///

The next morning, he wakes up, gets dressed, and walks downstairs. There, he sees Ron and Hermione sitting by the fireplace, deep in conversation. He turns around to go back upstairs, because he knows this conversation has been coming for months, maybe even years. He doesn’t want to interrupt.

Ron is the one who sees him first, though, and he waves him over. Hermione turns and looks at Harry as he approaches.

He expects her to be angry at all he told Ron, but she just shoots him a look of pure gratefulness. Harry looks at the two of them and takes a seat right by them.

Ron looks at Harry, and Harry looks at Ron.

Finally, from Ron: “Thanks, mate.”

Harry feels a lump in his throat, but swallows it down. “Anytime.”

Hermione looks at the two of them and smiles, not a big happy smile, because this isn’t a movie, but a small smile of hope. This is real life, Harry realizes, and it was never meant to be some cliché romance novel (the kind Hermione admitted to him, weeks ago, that she likes to read sometimes.)

He didn’t feel the break, but he feels this moment, right here, and knows that it’s going to be okay.

All three of them walk to breakfast, together.

///

Days later, when it’s not okay, not even a little bit, Harry wakes up in the middle of the night in the Hospital Wing. His head aches, and his arm, from the cut Wormtail gives him, still throbs, despite the potions. Harry stares at the ceiling, before working up the nerve to move.

In the chair, next to his bed, he sees Hermione and Ron sleeping in two separate chairs that are pushed right up to his bed. (Harry has a vague memory of them refusing to leave.)

Both their hands are on the edge of his bed, right by him. They are clasped together.

Harry stares at the two of them for a long while before he falls back asleep.