A Different Kind of Love

A Different Kind of Love

“’Mione,” Ron said, blushing and stammering slightly, “w-will you go to the Yule Ball with m-me?” he asked, looking down at her with his big, hazel eyes.

Hermione’s eyes went wide, and she dropped her heavy book bag, blushing deeply.  Trying not to make eye contact, she scuffed the ground with her shoe.  Picking up the heavy bag, she never took her eye off one crack on the floor.

She’d felt that there were some feelings towards her from Ron, that shouldn’t be there.  Every once and a while, she’d catch him staring at her in class, with glazed eyes, and a funny look on his face.  There’d been so many signs, but she’d never figured he’d actually go right out and ask her to go to the Yule Ball with him.  No, that was an unexpected blow.

“Ron,” she said, finally making eye contact, with a pained look on her face.  “I want you to know that I have very deep feelings for you.  And I love you very much.”

Ron started to move towards her, murmuring, “Then will you—“

But Hermione quickly broke him off with a hand in front of her, hanging her head down low.  “No, Ron.  I know I said that I love you very much, but…” she looked up at him, his confused and hurt face contorting slowly, “it’s a very different kind of love, Ron.”

Ron backed off, a hurt look on his face.  He turned to her saying, “I understand.  Is there someone else?”

“No, but there’s always that dream of someone else.  I really hope that this won’t ruin our friendship, Ron.”  She said this last part so earnestly that Ron knew she wasn’t just being nice.  Hermione truly did care for him, just not the way he felt for her.

“You’ve always been like that overprotecting big brother I always wanted,” and she looked up at his face, because he’d grown quite tall.  He smiled as he noticed how far back she had to tilt her head up.  “Remember,” she said smiling, then letting out a giggle, remembering many times gone by, “remember when we were trying to get to the Philosopher’s Stone, and you sacrificed yourself?  Just to make sure that we would be safe?”

“Hermione, there was a bit more at stake than just you and Harry,” he replied smiling.

“So the entire survival of the planet as we know it counted on you.  What’s the big deal?”  They both laughed and Hermione was the first to stop, having more memories to share.

“And then there was the time, in our second year, when Malfoy called me the most dreadful name, I thought you were going to punch his lights out!  But no, smart boy that you are, thinking you can perform a complicated curse like that, with a broken wand, no less!”  They laughed again, thinking of all those slugs.

“And in our fourth year, you were so overprotective of me when I was with Viktor.  I knew what I was doing.  I wouldn’t get serious about him, of all people.  But of course how could you possibly believe that!  No, you had to believe he was up to absolutely no good, and I was too big of a fool to realize it.”  Hermione laughed, but this time Ron barely smiled.

“What,” Hermione asked, “I’m not funny any more?”

Ron mumbled something under his breath.

“What?”

“I still say that good-for-nothing Bulgarian was up to something.”  They both looked in each others eyes at the same time.

Then they both burst out laughing resulting in Hermione giggling so hard she let out a snort, which made them laugh even harder. 

“But Ron,” she said growing serious all of a sudden, “do you understand now, why I can’t go to the ball with you?  It would be like you going to the ball with Ginny!  How gross is that?”

“There’s someone else, isn’t there ‘Mione,” he asked quietly.

“What?  Of course not!  I mean, um,” but he shook his head sadly, realizing quickly that there was.

“Whoever he is, he got the best,” he said, smiling weakly.  “Tell him that.  I wish you two all the best, Hermione.”  He thought deeply for a moment, analyzing his memories, looking for who it was.  “I know it’s not Neville, so it has to be—“ but he couldn’t say it, it hurt too much.  He winced slightly, as if just the thought felt like a thorn in his side.  “I know who it is.  Don’t worry Herm’, I can handle it.  Not a word about this episode to anyone.  Deal?”  Ron looked at her hopefully.

“Of course.  Ron, I’m really sorry you found out like this.  I truly am,” she said with a pleading look on her face.  “I love you very much, Ron.”  Tears sprang to her eyes as she suddenly hugged him.  He was surprised, but he returned the hug, realizing it would be nice to have another little sister.  “Ron,” she said, “I want you to know, that there is someone, but I don’t know if he loves me.”  She sounded pained at this last statement.

“If it’s any consolation, I love you very much Hermione,” he said looking in her cloudy face, wishing that the sparkle would return to her big brown eyes.  “And I understand now.  It’ll be okay.  So smile, sis,” he said, putting much emphasis on this last word.  “Sis,” he said, as if testing it out.  “I like that.”  Ron smiled, gave her a quick, reassuring hug and a quick kiss, and started to walk off.

“Oh yeah,” he said, turning back.  “Good luck.”  And with a wink, he was gone.

“Well, that went better than I thought,” Hermione murmured to herself as she scooped up her book bag and headed towards the library.  Her footsteps echoed off the empty stone corridor as she practically ran to get there.

As Hermione walked into the library, she was shocked to find Harry sitting at her usual table in the corner.  She walked towards the table with a confused look on her face.

“Harry,” she said in a whisper, “what are you doing in the library?”

He looked up from a book he’d been reading, startled, and quickly stuffed it into his book bag, as if he hadn’t wanted her to see.  After this interesting happening he looked up at her and smiled.

“I wasn’t aware there was a rule against it,” Harry replied, whispering quietly. 

From the other side of the library the heard Madam Pince clear her throat, loudly.  She shot them a look that clearly said, “Sit down and study or get out.”

Hermione quickly sat down in the chair next to him, placing a book upon the table labeled Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them, and opening it.  She ran her hand along the crisp, white pages, as if they were telling her some kind of delightful secret, and she’d have to rub them delicately for them to tell it to her. 

“Very funny,” she said absentmindedly, still rubbing the pages, then flipping through.

“Hermione?  Do you feel well?  Are you sick?” he questioned earnestly.

“No, no, I’m quite alright.”

“Chatterbirds, out!” cried Madame Pince.  They looked up, but she’d been talking to a small group of first year girls, who, it appeared, had been peering through the bookshelves at Harry and Hermione.  They trudged out with disappointed looks on their faces.  Giving glances back at the pair.

“I told you Harry had a crush on Hermione.  Duh!” cried one of them as they were leaving.

“I think they make an adorable couple,” said another.

“Oh, I dunno, I thought that red-headed Weasley girl would look good with him.  What’s ‘er name, Virginia?  But I think that Harry and Hermione are a cute couple, too,” said yet another.

“I think Harry’s going to ask Hermione to the ball!” cried the first one, as they escaped from the earshot of the pair.

Harry snorted, and Hermione giggled quietly.  To themselves they both thought, “What truth from the mouths of babes.”

“Are we the brunt of every romantic rumor at Hogwarts?” Hermione whispered.

“Probably,” replied Harry, “but with good reason.”  He looked in her eyes.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, as if she knew what was coming.

“Hermione,” he whispered, “will you go to the ball with me?”

Hermione’s face became a lighthouse, so bright and happy, it could’ve saved a million boats from hitting dangerous, rocky shores.  “Oh gosh.”  She twirled a bit of hair around her finger and said, “I would be honored, Harry.”

“Really?” looking as if so amazed at the acceptance that he’d fall off his chair.

“Really,” she replied with a smile.

“Do you want to go back to the Common Room?” Harry asked her, smiling.

“I would love to,” she replied packing up her book and picking up her bag.

Harry offered her an elbow, which she wrapped her slender arm around.

As they walked out of the library, the book Harry had been reading—or looking at, rather—fell out of his bag.  Hermione stooped down to pick it up.  She smiled when she saw the gold-embossed cover on the dragon-hide of a large book.  Picking it up, she waved it in Harry’s humiliated face.

“Hmmm…What’s this?”

“Nothing,” he said trying to grab it from her.

“Let’s see,” said Hermione, flipping open the cover.  “Or let’s not,” she said giggling after seeing what was on the front page.  “You really are a good artist, Harry,” she said, handing him the book.  “But why choose such an ugly subject?”

“Hermione!” he cried, “Don’t say that about my date!” he gave her a kind of goofy, lop-sided smile, that might’ve worked for Malfoy, but just made Harry look too strange.

“Oh Harry, don’t screw up your face like that!  You look like someone who’s just tried to eat a lemon whole!” she said giggling.

For someone who disdained giggling Hermione was certainly doing a lot of it.

“Fine,” he said, returning to his normal, good-natured grin.  “But your better not look at my drawings again!” he said, trying—but utterly failing—to look angry.

“Harry,” Hermione said, slightly confused, “I know this is the part where we’re supposed to walk off into the sunset, or whatever, but I have a couple questions, first.”  She bit down on her lip as she sat down on the Grand Staircase next to Harry.

“Shoot,” he said amiably.

“Okay…How come you never told any of us that you draw?”

That was the one questions Harry hadn’t expected.  “Well…it’s kind of hard to explain.  Maybe I can try to explain it like this.  Does it ever, kinda bug you when somebody’s trying to read over your shoulder?  It’s like, you’re trying to get into the book, but you can’t because there’s that person there, watching?  It’s like…I don’t know, being spied on.  It just seems so private?  Well, it’s like that with me and my drawings.  If someone is looking at them, it’s like they’re spying in on this little world that I’ve created, and I don’t know if I want everyone looking at them.  I don’t really think they’re that good, anyway.”   He flipped through the pages in the book, filled with drawings and sketches.

“Harry!” she cried pulling the book out of his hands.  “How can you think these aren’t good?  They’re so accurate!  I mean, look at this one of me!”  She opened to the first page.  On it was a picture of Hermione, so accurate it could’ve been copied from a photo.  She was curled up on a chair in the Common Room, reading a book, and her hair hung loosely around her shoulders.  “Except I’m far too pretty.  And look at this one!” she flipped to the next page, revealing another picture of one of our trio.  “Look at Ron!  He looks so real!”  It was a picture of Ron, clad in his too-short pajamas, and a stunned look on his face.  He appeared to be quite stunned, and it looked very life-like.  “Or how about this one of Fred and George!” she cried.

Flipping the page, yet again, she revealed a picture of the twins, both smiling from ear to ear, on their brooms, holding their clubs for beating off bludgers.  They were perfectly identical, down to the last freckles on the top of the left ear.  “The detail’s amazing!” Hermione marveled.

“Hermione,” Harry said, taking the book out of her hands, “they’re really NOT that good.  I mean,” he said, running a hand through his already messy hair, “nobody would really like them.  Would they?” he looked up at her with a wondering look.

“Of course they would!” Hermione seemed to ponder something for a moment.  “Harry!” she cried.  “I’ve got a great idea!  Can I borrow this?” she asked, pointing at the book of drawings.

“Sure,” said Harry, slightly confused, “but what’s your idea?”

“Can’t tell you!” she shouted from the landing, “but you’ll be very happy.  Trust me.”  And with that, she was off.  To do what, Harry hadn’t the foggiest idea.

“Well,” Harry said to himself.  “That was an eventful conversation.”  And he started whistling and walked off out to the Quidditch Pitch to fly some laps.

* * * * *

As Hermione scrambled up the stairs to the dormitory, she ran smack-dab into Ron and Ginny, who appeared to be having an argument about one or another of Ginny’s boyfriends.

“He’s FAR too old for you, Virginia!” Ron shouted at the top of his lungs.

To this Ginny rolled her eyes and looked up at her tall and gangly brother.  “Ron,” she spat, absolutely disgusted, “we have the exact same birthday.”

“Well…” Ron sputtered, “Perhaps you should go out with YOUNGER men.  What am I saying?  You shouldn’t be going out at all!  Next thing you know, you’ll be staking out closets to snog in!”

“Oh Ron, I’d never do—Hermione?  Is something wrong?” she asked as she was knocked over and Hermione fell on top of the two of them.

“Hi guys.  Oh, I could use your help with something.  Would you guys mind following me?” she stood up and continued to her dorm room.

“Uh, Hermione.  I don’t think I’m allowed in there,” Ron said, apprehensively.

“Well that didn’t stop you when you were snogging with Parvati last month, did it?” Hermione said with a calm look on her face?

“Shouldn’t be dating…” Ginny muttered.  “Hermione, what’s this all about?”

“This is what it’s all about, Ginny,” Hermione said, as they entered the fifth year girls’ dorm.  She handed the book to Ginny, who raised one eyebrow.

“You nearly bowled us over for a book?” Ginny said, hardly surprised.

“It’s not just a book!  Open it!” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

As Ginny opened it she gasped.  “Wow, Ron!  Look at these!”  Ron stepped closer to his sister, and marveled at the wonderful drawings and sketches. 

Ron paused at the picture of himself near the front.  “Hermione, who drew these?  You couldn’t possibly have known about that.”

“Huh?  Known about what?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Well, you know, last year when I was all miffed at Harry, I came down in my too-small pajamas, and he chucked one of those ‘Potter Sucks’ badges at me.  We both said some pretty nasty stuff, too.  How’d you know?  He didn’t tell you, did he?” he looked about ready to go punch Harry in the face—which would’ve just been a good cover-up for his jealousy of Harry and Hermione.

“No!  Of course not!  Harry drew these!  Aren’t they wonderful?” she said walking over the join them.

“Wow,” Ginny said, “I never knew that Harry could draw so well.  Did you guys?” she asked glancing back and forth between Ron and Hermione. 

“Not until a few minutes ago,” said Hermione.

Ron remained silent and both Ginny and Hermione turned to look at him.  “Well…I did have him do a sketch for me once…but he made me promise not to tell.”

“Sketch of what?” asked Hermione suspiciously.

“Um,” he said, knitting his brows, “Well, you’ll probably find out anyway.  It was of Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy!” Hermione and Ginny shouted in unison.

“Shhh!” Ron cried, covering their mouths with his hands.  “Yes!  But it’s not what you think!  Follow me.”  He exited the room, and appeared to be heading to his dorm.

“Why would he want a sketch of Malfoy?” asked Hermione in a whisper.

“I don’t know, but it sounds pretty sick to me,” Ginny whispered back emphatically.

“Here we are,” said Ron, pushing open the room to his dorm.

Inside, Dean and Seamus were both wearing dress robes and playing instruments.  Seamus was playing the violin, and Dean the cello.  Ginny and Hermione both felt their mouths drop open.

“How’s practice goin’ guys?” asked Ron, plopping down on his four-poster bed.

“Well,” said Dean, amiably.  Hermione and Ginny both shut their mouths.  The Gryffindor boys were obviously more complex than they let on.

“And what are you fine ladies doing with such an insufferable git as our roomie?” asked Seamus in his strong accent.

“I’m showing them my sketch of Malfoy,” said Ron, pulling out his wand.

“Oh?  That’s one of my favorite pieces of paper in the world, that is,” cried Seamus.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged disgusted looks as if they couldn’t believe their ears.

Dean looked from Hermione to Ginny and back to Hermione.  “Ron,” he said, “didn’t you tell ‘em what it’s for?”

“No, and they seem to think I’m gay or something,” said Ron rolling his eyes.

Dean and Seamus looked at each other and then started laughing uncontrollably.

“Ron?” Dean managed to get out.

“Gay?” cried Seamus with mirth.

“Oh puh-leeze!” cried Neville, walking in.  “What’s with the NMP, guys?” he asked, looking suspiciously at Ginny and Hermione.

“I’m showin’ ‘em my sketch of Malfoy,” Ron said, rummaging through his trunk.  “Or at least trying to.  I can’t find it!” he shouted, ruffling his hair in frustration.

“Didn’t you leave it under the bed?” asked Neville, pulling out a bag of what appeared to be Muggle darts.  “Care to play, ladies?” he asked, holding up the darts as Ron, grabbed a piece of paper from underneath his bed.

“Aha!  I found it!”  Ron cried.  The paper was filled with so many holes from darts that it looked like it was some kind of voodoo doll gone wrong.

“Is this your guys’ attempt at voodoo, or something?” asked Ginny, bewildered, but grabbing six darts from Neville, and handing three to Hermione.

“Pretty much, yes,” said Dean, as Seamus helped Ron hang up the paper.

“Neville’s amazing!” Seamus said, after Ron had secured the paper in place with Spell-O-Tape. 

“Oh, I’m not that good,” said Neville, who was blushing profusely.  “Can I go first chaps?”  There were nods of agreement all around the room.  “Okay, this is going to be a fast one…may I borrow these?” Neville asked the girls, motioning to their darts.  They immediately handed them to him.  “Thanks.  Okay…right eye, left eyes, right ear, left ear, both nostrils, and that pimple on the left side of his forehead.”

“Pimple?” asked Seamus.  “I don’t remember there bein’ a pimple.”  He stepped closer to the sketch.  “Oh,” said Seamus running his hand down the paper.  “It’s a bit of Twinkie or something.”

“Ah,” said Neville.  “Would somebody draw a  pimple on the left side of his forehead?”

Ginny ran towards the drawing and made a large red dot on his forehead with a red marker.

“Okay…ready, go!” cried Dean.  In a blur the darts were out of Neville’s hands and onto the sketch, all in the places he mentioned.

“Whoa,” said Ginny and Hermione, which statement was accompanied by a blank stare.

“You’re good, Neville,” Hermione said.  “Oh, by the way, we need you guys to help with something.”

“For Harry and his drawings?” Ron asked.

“Precisely.  Now this is the plan…”