Come in Alone

The common room had been emptying at increasingly later hours as the year passed. The workload for the sixth years was enormous and Ginny Weasley, who would be taking her O.W.L’s this year, could be found reading, bags under her eyes, until well past midnight. Harry, looking at her from across the common room, couldn’t help but notice how her eyes stayed brown and warm, despite her weariness. His stomach lurched a little and he wasn’t quite sure why.

     Harry had finished his star chart fairly early, but instead of opting for bed, he continued sitting with Ron and Hermione, glancing across the room at infrequent intervals. Ginny looked very pretty when she yawned.

     “The 1674 Warlock Confederation was held in Prague, not Salzburg. And it was led by Eunice the Young, not Uric the Oddball,” she said, biting the end of her quill.

     Ron went red but said, rather defensively, “How d’you expect me to keep them straight, eh?”

     Harry could sense a quarrel, the type of which may have annoyed him last year, but now, well….Ginny was standing up and her hair was so long and red. She put her books away and with another yawn she walked across the common room. She stopped near Ron.

     “Mum sent Errol. She told me to ask you if you wanted to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays.”

     “Right….er, I’ll send her an owl later…..now, listen Hermione, you’re nutters, I could swear that the goblin revolt was in 1703…”

     Ginny raised her eyebrows knowingly and smiling vaguely she said, “Night, then.”

     “Night!” Harry called, a little too late and a little too loudly. Ginny’s eyebrows were still raised in that odd, mysterious way. As if she knew something Harry didn’t. She looked terribly amused at something. “Night, Harry.”

     Feeling like a great, big prat Harry stayed in his arm chair for another fifteen minutes, listening to Ron and Hermione quarrel, before standing up. The common room was nearly empty, it was only the three of them left. “I’m going to bed,” he said. “Coming, Ron?”

     Ron’s ears went red. “Soon,” he muttered. “Reckon I should finish the History of Magic essay.”

     Harry went upstairs, where, in his dorm, he could hear the snores of Neville. Neville had taken Ginny to the Yule Ball in fourth year….Harry felt a twinge of something that felt like jealousy. Harry laughed. Jealous of Neville? He fell into a deep sleep, and the images of Ginny’s red, long hair subsided, fading into the darkness.

The common room was now entirely empty. Sitting across from eachother, in squashy armchairs, Ron and Hermione continued their work. They sat for five minutes, in silence. The fire was casting a warm light on them.

     “Well, I think your History of Magic essay is all right now,” Hermione was saying, quickly, intentionally briskly.

     Ron looked at her and suddenly felt helpless, felt as if he had to do something right now, or the world would fall apart. He pushed his chair back, stood up, and, leaned across the table, in a single, spontaneous, awkward motion. His lips grazed Hermione’s and they kissed. Hermione leaned closer for a split second, and suddenly stiffened. She drew away.

     “Oh Ron.”

     Ron’s face went as red as his hair. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you—you—well I thought we….I have—you know--for you.”

     Hermione couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Ron….you fancy me. And I suppose—yes, I like you too.”

     Ron’s mouth dropped in shock. “You—you said,” he sputtered before his face split into a grin. “Hermione, I don’t understand you at all. Well, let’s get on with it then.” He leaned across the table again.

     This time their lips did more than graze. Hermione gave a little sigh. She pulled away again.

     Ron’s jaw dropped. “What’re you playing at?” he said defensively.

     Hermione looked very sad. “Sit down with me, here,” she motioned towards a scarlet, overstuffed couch and turned toward him. “I care about you, Ron,” she said quietly. “Oh, but Ron,” her eyes were very shiny, she looked as though she were about to cry.

     “But Ron what?”

     “We can’t.”

     Ron felt as though something had dropped in his stomach. “Well, why not? I thought you were all logical and straight forward Hermione. I like you, you like me, of course we can. Hermione—I—“

     “Harry.”

     Ron’s voice had a sharp edge, “I’m Ron, not Harry. Don’t tell me you—you—“

     Hermione shook her head. “No, of course not. Listen, Ron, Harry needs us now, more than ever. We—we—look. Voldemort’s back, really back, you know that.”

     “Course I know that. What’s wrong with a big of kissing then?”

     “Harry’s got an awful lot on his mind,” Hermione continued, giving heavy weight to her words. “He’s not over Sirius’ death. You know that, he tries to hide it but….we’re the closest ones he has now. And the very last thing he needs is for his friends to leave him.”

     “We’re not leaving him—“

     Hermione sighed miserably. “Of course we’re not. But that’s how he’ll view it, don’t you see? He’ll feel like a—a—third wheel. We can’t do that to him. He needs us more than ever.”

     “Well why doesn’t he get a girlfriend then!?” he said angrily. Hermione let out a brisk laugh.

     “Get a girlfriend and cover the hole left by Sirius, you mean?” she said dryly.

     “Yeah, why not?”

     “What kind of relationship is that? Remember what Cho did, after Cedric’s death. It won’t mean anything. He needs real, solid, platonic relationships,” Hermione said slowly. She took Ron’s hand. “Not now…we….we just can’t.”

     Ron leaned his forehead on Hermione’s. Their faces were inches apart. Hermione’s voice faltered, “We can’t.”

     But their lips were drawing closer and….Ron felt so warm, so secure. Hermione fell against him. They kissed for several minutes until, it was finally Ron, who pulled away.

     “Well, why doesn’t he go out with Ginny then?” he blurted out. Hermione let out a peal of laughter. She drew closer to him and he put his arm around her. “You’ve never hugged me before, you know that?” she said quietly.

     “I’m sure I have,” Ron said a bit stupidly as he cuddled closer.

     “Mmmm…” Hermione said vaguely. She moved her head so that it was resting on Ron’s shoulder.

     “We fit perfect together,” he murmured as she nestled closer into his shoulder.

     Hermione let out a sad sigh. She didn’t let go of Ron’s hand.