The Seventh Year Soap Opera

The Seventh Year Soap Opera

RECAP OF CHAPTER NINE- Confessions: Madam Pomfrey mends Ron's broken bones; he is still unconscious though. Hermione slaps Pansy, Pansy threatens Harry, Harry gets jealous and finds out what happened, and he goes to the common room, where Ginny gives him a kiss.

WHERE WE LEFT OFF-

Before he knew it, she had risen from her spot on the couch, thrown her arms around his neck, and planted a long, firm kiss on his lips.

He pushed her away, the sweetness of the kiss lingering on his lips. "G-Ginny?" he stammered. "What--you--what?" Have I missed something? "What--?"

Ginny put her finger to her lips. Harry stared at her with an expression that was somewhat confused, somewhat annoyed, somewhat intrigued, and somewhat amused.

Then Ginny spoke. "I love you Harry Potter, and I'm tired of doing it from a distance."

Chapter Ten- Night in the Hospital Wing

There was a long silence. Ginny was growing impatient, her vivid brown eyes locked with Harry's, waiting for some type of reaction. His green eyes gave away nothing. Ginny sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"Well what?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "A response, a reaction, anything!" she said, throwing her hands in the air somewhat.

Okay, Weasley getting angry...not good. Ginny stared at Harry, who appeared to be doing some quick thinking. "Er, Hermione's my girlfriend?" he ventured, still bewildered by the kiss. He hadn't really thought of Ginny as a bold person. Maybe she had changed.

"I know she's your girlfriend. I'm not thick, Harry," Ginny said softly.

More silence.

"I don't feel anything but friendship for you Ginny," he said finally, averting his eyes from her face.

Ginny nodded and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She was going to cry any second. Rejection was not easy, especially coming from a baby you've loved since you were ten. Stop it, she told herself firmly. You don't cry. Never cry. It's not the end of the world.

Oh, but it is. Why can't he see he's much better off with me than he is with Hermione? she thought angrily. She had betrayed him, cheated on him, broken his heart--take your pick. Didn't he feel anything in the kiss? Anything at all? One tiny spark? I did, God damnit! Why is he being this way? Gosh, he can be so irritating!

"That's fine," Ginny said, feeling defeated.

Harry's head lifted. "You're not mad, are you?" he asked cautiously.

No, I'm splendidly happy! Of course, I'm mad you prat! "No," she said dismissively, with a wave of her hand. If he can't see that we're perfect for each other, I'm not going to help him. Mr. Harry Potter will have to figure this out on his own.

"Oh, it's dinner time!" she said suddenly, looking at her watch.

Harry was confused by the transition of moods. Weasleys, he thought. He gestured toward the portrait hole. "After you," he said with a slight bow.

"Why, thank you sir," Ginny said, with a horrible southern accent. Harry shook his head and followed her down to dinner.

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Hermione rolled over in her hospital bed, trying to sleep, but it was no use. There were too many thoughts roaming around in her mind. She was thinking about what Ron had said earlier, right before Madam Pomfrey had walked in with Malfoy.

"Hermione, look. I can't do this."

"What?"

"Be around you!"

"Why?"

"Because--"

Why on earth wouldn't Ron want to be around her? They were best friends, weren't they?

Her thoughts dwelled on Harry...why hadn't he been there to save her? Hermione knew it was utterly ridiculous to feel and think this way, but she felt that the boyfriend should be the one to come to the rescue! Boy do I have an overblown romantic imagination...

She thought about Ginny. She had told Hermione that she was over Harry! If Hermione had known that Ginny held feelings for him still, she wouldn't have gotten involved with him!

And she thought about Malfoy. Why was he such a jerk? Does he enjoy hurting others; does it make him feel good about himself? Doesn't he have a heart under all that cold exterior?

On top of all this, she had her unborn child to worry about. Was it okay? If Malfoy's curse caused her baby any harm, she would...well, she didn't know what she would do, but it certainly would not be pretty.

Sighing, Hermione decided she needed a Pensive or something. She tried to push her thoughts aside, but it was impossible. Now another thought popped into her brain; how hungry she was. Madam Pomfrey had brought her up a tray of food about an hour ago, but she hadn't been hungry then; she had given it to Malfoy, who had woken up and was back to his normal self. When he had seen Ron in the hospital bed, he had burst into laughter and muttered something about having to ravish Pansy more than usual.

At that moment, Hermione had thrown up.

And now she was hungry.

She glanced at Ron in the bed next to hers. Why was he still unconscious? Surely this wasn't normal? Slight concussion her foot! Slowly, she kicked the covers from her body and sat on the edge of his bed. After all, he was her friend, he had saved her from being nearly killed, and she was worried sick about him. Plus, in a way (an odd sort of way, she had to admit) Ron was her knight in shining armor. The knight had rescued the damsel in distress from the evil ferret, and their best friend, Harry Potter was...pushed aside. She banged the bed with her fists.

Ron didn't even move. "Why won't you wake up?" she said, exasperated. This is just what she needed, more guilt.

The large bruise on his forehead had swelled greatly and Hermione cursed Madam Pomfrey for not doing something about it. Maybe if I kiss it, it will be better, she thought, a goofy grin crossing her face. She was disgusted at the thought. Stop it! Get a grip Granger! The last time you thought like this, you wound up pregnant! How dare you think something like that! Damn hormones!

But he was so handsome just lying there, that she couldn't resist. (AN: Would you?) What's one little kiss? He unconscious for crying out loud, it's not like he's going to kiss me back! She gave in and bent her head, her lips slightly grazing the bruise. She sighed and climbed back into her bed.

"Hermione?" came a small, hoarse voice. She was stiff in her bed and her eyes were wide. How could someone just wake up like that? Ron? She looked over at the redhead, and sat up in bed. Does he know I kissed him? Oh no, oh no, oh no...

Nevertheless, she went back over to his bed. "Ron?" she said softly.

"Hmm," he said, his eyes still closed. He looked so peaceful, like he was dreaming.

"It's Hermione."

Ron opened his eyes and said, "Hi Hermione," in a very sleepy voice, with a grin on his face.

She smiled back. "I was beginning to worry. You've been out cold for nearly five hours."

He looked shocked. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten," Hermione answered, glancing at her watch.

"All I remember is beating Malfoy up one second and being hurled into the air the next."

"Pansy Parkinson was pretty upset when she found you killing her boyfriend, which you shouldn't have been doing--"

"Like you weren't?"

She ignored him. "But I got her back, that cow."

"How?"

"I slapped her and told her that I had a good right hook, too, thanks to you."

Ron laughed and winced. "I remember that day..."

"Hermione, how can you stand it?"

"Stand what?" said Hermione, looking up from her book.

"Reading all day long! Especially on a day like this!"

"Fine," said Hermione, snapping her book shut. "What do you propose we do?" She raised her eyebrows.

"We're going to play Quidditch," said Fred coming into the room, broomstick in hand. Ginny followed him, and then George. "You can play if you like."

"Want to play Quidditch then, Hermione?" asked Ron hopefully.

Hermione bit her lip and frowned. "I don't like flying."

Ron's face fell, but he brightened quickly. "I have a better idea then," he said, walking outside.

"What?" said Hermione, following him outside into the bright summer air.

"I'm going to teach you how to fight," said Ron proudly, and looking as though it was obvious.

"Excuse me? Why?"

"We are the best friends of Harry Potter, and we'll need it later on. No one wants you to get hurt."

Hermione didn't take offense. "You're serious?"

"You bet. Now, punch me."

"What?"

"Punch me."

"You're ridiculous, Ron. I'm not going to punch you." She crossed her arms indignantly.

"Are you afraid or something? Just do it. It's fine, really. Needed actually, so I can see what you need to learn," said Ron.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Why can't I use a punching bag or something?"

"Why use a punching bag? There's no point. When You-Know-Who strikes, his Death Eaters won't be in the form of punching bags, will they? They're human. Just like me. Now, come on, punch me."

"I refuse!"

"Just do it," said Ron, and it was clear he was growing agitated.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Hermione, just DO IT!!"

"FINE!" she said, and she threw out a punch so hard to his stomach, that Ron fell to the ground. "Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, as he wheezed.

"Great," he rasped as Fred and George started to laugh.

"Ronnie got punched by a girl!"

"Oh shut up you two," snapped Hermione, as she helped Ron up. "See? I don't need training do I?"

"Yes, you do...you didn't do it right."

"There's a proper way to punch?"

"Yes, now stand here. Ball up your fist...like that, but...no, don't do that...it's like this, see my fist...make yours like mine...and then, you just...no, Hermione, don't do that...use this form...this form..."

"Is ickle Ronniekins arguing with his little girlfriend?" teased Fred, making kissing noises. Both Ron and Hermione turned red.

"Cut that out Fred," snapped Ron.

"Oooh, he's getting angry..."

"Oh just shush!" said Hermione, and her fist connected with his stomach, and he fell over.

"She's a pistol, she is," laughed George.

"Good form!" said Ron, clapping his hands. "That's my girl!"

"Oooh, Fred, his girl..."

Hermione raised her fist to George and he ran away. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione burst into laughter.

"That was bloody hilarious, that was," said Ron, laughing, and wincing.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it just hurts to laugh."

"Well, they say laughter is the best medicine."

"Did you get that from a book?" said Ron, giving her a knowing look.

"No!" she said defensively. "Really, though, are you feeling okay?"

"What are you, my nursemaid? I'm fine. That particular question should be directed towards you."

"Well, I'm fine," Hermione said haughtily. "Well enough to go and sneak food from the kitchens in fact. I'm hungry, aren't you?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"Then get out of bed, we don't want to keep the house-elves up all night!"

"I wish I was still unconscious," he muttered good-naturedly.

"I heard that."

Ron sat up in bed and groaned. "Muscles--aching--pain," he said melodramatically, throwing the covers from his body. He let out a small cry and both he and Hermione blushed. "Where are my pants?!" he exclaimed, wrapping the covers firmly around himself again.

Hermione giggled. There goes the boxers or briefs question. Boxers. Wait, I already knew that. "Madam Pomfrey probably had to remove them in order to heal the bones in your legs," she said logically. "At least you don't have to wear this dumb nightgown. Look at it! It's too slinky and lacy an silky and..."

"Hermione, I can't go out there wearing a T-shirt and boxers!" He sounded scandalized, like Voldemort and his supporters had just walked into the room.

"Everyone is in their common rooms," she pointed out.

Ron raised his eyebrows. I--am--not--going out there."

Hermione fetched her wand from her bedside. "Fine, you big baby. Stand up." He looked at her as though she was crazy. "Just stand up! It's not like I haven't seen it all before!" she snapped. Reluctantly, Ron stood up. Hermione said a spell under her breath and tan khakis appeared on his legs. She tossed her wand back on her bed. "That do?"

Ron nodded and they set off toward the kitchens.

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Ron was having a hard time trying not to stare at Hermione as they walked down the dimly lit corridors that led to the kitchens. Why the hell did Madam Pomfrey give her that to wear? A nightgown that low cut! Ron stared at Hermione, who had a mischievous grin on her face and his ears went hot. Would it have killed her to put on a robe? Isn't she cold?

"We're here," said Hermione in a sing-song voice, and she tickled the pear in the portrait of all the fruit. The door swung open. That's it! I'm buying the girl a robe for her birthday!

They stepped into the kitchen and Ron felt his lower legs being attacked. But it was only Dobby hugging him. "Hi Dobby!" said Hermione, and Ron rolled his eyes. She loved house-elves too much.

"You came to see Dobby!" the house-elf squeaked.

"And to eat," muttered Ron, and then suddenly, half a dozen house elves rushed to their side, with plates upon plates of food.

"Please sit down," said Dobby, gesturing to a circular table in the corner. It was very low to the ground, but Ron and Hermione sat down in the tiny chairs surrounding it and were surprisingly comfortable as they ate their food. Dobby began to speak and he told them all about how he was doing and the socks he was designing.

Halfway through the meal, Winky walked into the room and scolded Dobby for not cleaning the kitchen. "Hello Winky," said Hermione kindly through a mouthful of potatoes and syrup.

Winky glared at her and Ron, and looked at Dobby in disgust. "You two is bad peoples!" she said in a low, but high voice.

"What do you mean?" said Hermione, looking as confused as Ron felt.

"Come Winky, let's go to the kitchen now," said Dobby, looking nervous and trying to lead her away.

"Bad peoples!"

"Winky, do not insult Harry Potter's friends!"

"They hurts my Harry Potter!" said Winky. "He has been coming down to these kitchens and helping me work, and we are friends! You hurts him!"

"What?" said Ron, dropping the biscuit he was holding. "What did he say?"

"Winky cannot reveal her Harry Potter's secrets," said Dobby, looking even more nervous as he pulled Winky's arm.

"Why not? Harry isn't her master!" Ron said indignantly. Dobby responded by shoving them out of the kitchen. Ron and Hermione pressed their ears against the door to listen.

"Why did you do that Winky?

"They hurts my Harry Potter's heart. He said he doesn't believe his 'Ermione when she says she doesn't have feeling for his Wheezy and the same thing for his Wheezy. He says he doesn't know how to feel about anything anymore. He wonders if he was ever in love with his 'Ermione... he is very confused about everything...and those two bad peoples have done nothing to help him. He defeated the Dark Lord and all of his problems should be gone but they is worse. They is worse." She sniffed horribly.

"Winky you is okay, our Harry Potter is okay."

"My Ginny Wheezy would not hurts him likes that!"

"Winky the kitchen..."

There was the sound of footsteps fading away and Ron suddenly wished he hadn't eaten that many jam tarts. He noticed Hermione guiltily staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and she bit her lip. He sighed against the kitchen door. "I feel sick," he said miserably, knots twisting in his stomach.

The two of them didn't speak until they were back in the hospital wing. Hermione suddenly threw her hands in the air and yelled, "I don't why Harry is making such a big deal out of this!" She turned to Ron, her hair swishing dangerously. "It didn't mean anything!"

Ron felt like she had stabbed him.

Hermione paced for a bit as Ron just watched her, feeling awkward. She stopped and chewed on her fingernails and she seemed to have calmed down a bit. "Well," she said, looking embarrassed at her outburst. "Goodnight." She sighed and climbed into bed.

Ron walked over to the wall and turned off the lights. Then he climbed into his own bed, half of him overwhelmed with guilt, the other half wondering if Hermione could really have feelings for him.

An hour later, Hermione was still wide awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark. She felt so confused. She loved Harry, didn't she? Did he love her? Not wanting to think about Harry anymore, she closed her eyes, but the conversation with Ron that she had fretting about earlier came rushing back to her.

"Look, Hermione, I can't do this."

"What?"

"Be around you!"

"Why?"

"Because--"

"Ron? Ron, are you awake?" said Hermione in the darkness, shifting so that she was facing his bed, and propped her head on her elbow.

"I'm awake," said Ron, sounding grumpy.

"Well, it's just...earlier--you said--you said that you didn't want be around me. Why did you say that?"

Ron heaved a sigh. "Just forget it," he huffed.

"No, I don't want to, I want to know why you feel you can't be around me."

"I would've thought it'd be obvious," said Ron, staring up at the ceiling. "I love you Hermione."

Hermione was shocked. "What? You what? No, no, no, no--that's not funny Ron!"

"It's not a joke," Ron said simply, sounding very tired. Hermione's heart was pounding furiously in her chest. No! This isn't supposed to happen! Ugh! "I love you and it's hurting Harry, as we found out in the kitchens. I don't want to get in the way of that, he's got enough on his shoulders."

"But I love Harry and that hurts you...but Ron, you're my friend. I don't want to lose you as my friend." Her voice croaked as she realized it was true.

"Well, I'm not going to stop loving you...I've tried...so what do you propose we do?"

Hermione was speechless. Ron had never been so open with his feeling, and now they were coming out like cannonballs. She was so taken aback she didn't answer for two minutes. "Hermione, what do you propose we do?"

"Er...nothing, I guess. Just--nothing. But that...no--we have to make a pact!"

"What kind of pact?"

"An oath. An oath that we never ever kiss or anything of that, er...sort, I assume. There's nothing else we can do...I'll start. I, Hermione Annabelle Granger, swear that I will never have any romantic physical contact with Ron Weasley at any time during my relationship with our best friend, Harry Potter. There, now it's your turn."

Ron sighed again, and pain shot through his chest as he said his oath, in a dry voice. "I, Ronald Michael Weasley, swear that I will never have any romantic physical contact with Hermione Granger at any time during her relationship with our best friend, Harry Potter. What, do we spit on it or something?"

Hermione looked at him in disgust. "Er...no. You just swear it in your heart. Signing it on paper doesn't make a but of difference if you don't believe what you're saying in your heart." Ron couldn't really love her, could he? What was love exactly? Their affair hadn't meant a thing, had it? It had all been based on loneliness and physical attraction, nothing more--hadn't it? Hermione shook her head, feeling more confused than ever. "Oh, goodnight Ron."

"Night," said Ron, his eyes not moving from the ceiling. Three hours later, he was still awake, their conversation playing over and over in his head like a bad record. While Hermione snored softly in the bed next to his, her words suffocated him and Ron thought he just might drown in pain. "But I love Harry and that hurts you."

Ron turned over slightly and he faced Hermione's bed. Her eyes were closed, and a look of innocence was on her face. She looked so beautiful and so peaceful, sleeping there in that slinky nightgown with the cool covers wrapped tightly around her, her chestnut hair surrounding her face. Ron sighed and scowled.

Damn right it hurts.