Disclaimer: It's not mine.
The idiot. The bloody idiot!What did he see in her? What?
No, I was the idiot. No matter what Ron did, I was supposed to be the sensible one. I was not supposed to lose it and conjure up a bunch of little birds to tear his face apart. That was the height of immaturity, and I was supposed to be mature.
He was with Lavender, and I'd hurt him. I'd hurt the boy I loved, and I'd probably wrecked my chances with him in the process.
Like I'd ever had a chance with him.
Merlin, I hated this.
I didn't know what to do. Usually, when I was miserable, I buried myself in a book or my homework, but I didn't think that would work this time. I'd been upset about Ron and Lavender before, but I'd never hurt Ron like this because of it. Merlin, it had been since third year that he and I had really fought.
Without really deciding to, I ran up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. I'd only been up there a few times, and usually I'd had a bit more of a purpose, but I couldn't stand being alone and I knew Harry would be there. I'd never been interested in him romantically, but he was my best friend. Sometimes he almost felt like the brother I'd never had. If there was anyone I could trust in this state, it was him.
"Hermione, what—?" Harry started to ask when I burst into his room. Before he could finish his question, I flung myself into his arms and started sobbing. This was slightly awkward, as he was sitting on his bed and had a textbook in his lap, but I didn't care. I really, really needed the comfort. And he offered it. He and I both knew we'd never be a couple—neither of us felt that way toward the other—but we were really close, and he seemed not to mind holding me while I cried.
After a couple of minutes, Harry said, "Hermione, I know you don't really want to move, but I don't think this is the best place for us to be right now. Ron will get back soon from whatever he's doing with Lavender, and I don't think you want to see him, or for him to see you. If Seamus or Dean comes in—well, this will look like something it's not, and I think you could do without the rumors. So, if you feel up to it, I think we should leave."
"Where would we go?" I asked, still sobbing.
"The Room of Requirement," he answered. "Does that sound okay?"
"Yeah, it sounds great," I replied.
"All right, I'll get the cloak," he said, shifting me off of his lap and onto his bed so that he could stand. He fished in his trunk for a minute before pulling out the invisibility cloak. "Come on." He took my hand, threw the cloak over us, hugged me close for a few seconds, and then set off across the dorm and down the stairs. I tried not to cry as we made our way to the Room of Requirement. After all, being invisible is no good if you're too loud to be missed.
As Harry paced back and forth three times in front of the Room of Requirement (with me right behind him, as we were still under the cloak), I wondered what he was telling the Room to become. What sort of place did he think would cheer me up?
I was surprised, when the door of the Room opened, to find that there was nothing but a small, moonlit stone stairwell before us. When Harry and I entered and we got out from under the cloak, I gave him a puzzled look. "Why this?"
"I can change it if you want," Harry told me. "But I've found it's easiest to be sad in somewhere that feels private. That was one of the draws of the Mirror of Erised. You could sit in front of it in that little room where it was kept, and, even though anyone could walk in on you, it felt like a place where you could be alone and think—and be depressed if that was what you needed. This is kind of the opposite. No one can get in here unless we let them in, but I thought you might like somewhere that felt secluded anyway."
"You're right."
"So what's wrong?" he asked, taking a seat on the stairs. I sat next to him, finding that there was just room enough for two to sit comfortably side-by-side. Even though the stairs were stone, they weren't uncomfortable like some stairs could be.
I sighed. "I walked in on Ron and Lavender. I didn't mean to or anything, but I did, and, when I got there, I couldn't help myself. I was just so mad to see them together—and they were snogging and everything and it was kind of awful—and I got really mad and started yelling. And then Ron started yelling back, and Lavender started crying, and he got all defensive of her, and then I conjured up a bunch of little birds and sent them flying at him, and they kind of destroyed his face, and for a minute I felt all this vindictive pleasure, and then it was gone and I realized what I'd done."
Harry winced in sympathy. "Ouch." He put his arm around me. It felt good. Not the way it would have felt if Ron were holding me, but—people underestimate friendship. I might have been heartbroken, but it felt good to have a friend, at least. Especially a friend as good as Harry.
"It's my fault," I said. "I got angry. I acted. I was wrong. But Harry, it hurts. It hurts! I—I've known Ron for so long, and we've fought and we've hated each other and we've done everything but slit each other's throats, and we've fought Death Eaters together and wondered together if you were dead, and I've cried on his shoulder and now I'm crying on yours, and, Harry, I love him, and, however absolutely crazy it sounds, I want to be with him!"
"I get it," Harry replied gently. "That's how I feel about Ginny. I see her with Dean, and I know what it's like. It's hard, Hermione. I know it is. But you can do this."
"Can I?" I asked. "Nothing's ever made me feel this bad before. This is . . . this is worse than a bad grade. This is worse than a million Trolls or failing all of my O.W.L.s. Harry, if I think it's worse than—"
"I know, Hermione. But you'll get through this. Ron and Lavender won't last. You'll have your chance, if you still want it, when he breaks up with her. It's a matter of time. You've known him for years, and you love him. Falling for one of your best friends is one thing. Falling for someone you've just seen around and sort of fancied is another. You and Krum didn't last. Cho and I didn't. Ginny and Michael didn't. Ron and Lavender won't. I promise." He ran a hand through my hair.
"How do you know he and I will last, then?" I demanded.
"I don't. Merlin, Hermione, your personality clashes with his so much that sometimes I think it's a wonder you two are still on speaking terms. But you know him better than almost anyone, and you still love him. There's value in that. It's not like you're going to realize a couple weeks into a relationship with him that there's something he does that drives you crazy. I'm sure you've already found everything he does that you don't like." Harry smiled a bit as he said this, and I had to admit it was true and he had a right to smirk. Ron and I had been at each other's throats about a million times, fighting over a million different things, even if most of the time it hadn't lasted. "If you love him despite that, then I think you'll be able to keep loving him despite it for a long time."
"I guess that makes sense," I admitted. "But do you think he'll ever fall for me?"
"Hermione, I thought you were smart."
Of all the things I hated having insulted, my intellect was at the top of the list. It was the only thing I was sure I had going for me. I knew I wasn't very pretty. I was bad at flying, at getting along with people, at dressing stylishly. But I was smart. I was a good student, and, sure as the redcap can't be trusted, I was intelligent. Anger at Harry flared up inside of me. "Don't you dare!" I snapped, pulling out of his grip and standing. Blood rushed out of my head and I was instantly dizzy, but I tried not to show it. "On top of everything else, how can you even think to challenge the one thing I actually like about myself?"
Harry stood beside me. "'Mione, don't take it like that," he soothed, putting his arms around me.
"Why do you keep touching me?" I demanded, slipping once again out of his arms. "'Mione? Really? When has anyone ever called me that? When have I ever had a nickname? Why are you trying to hold me? Why would you say I'm not smart?"
Merlin, I was screaming at Harry.
That was a bad sign.
Harry held up his hands and backed away. "No. No. Don't read anything into this. You're a great friend, Hermione, but I'm not trying to get you to be with me or anything. I'm in love with Ginny, and you're in love with Ron. I was just trying to cheer you up, and it seemed like you could really use a hug. That's the only reason I was touching you. I'm sorry about the nickname. Again, I was just trying to cheer you up. It seemed like a good idea, but I guess it wasn't. It's not that I'm dying to hold you—I mean, nothing against you—but, again, it seemed like you needed some comfort, and I didn't know what else to do.
"With the intelligence comment, I wasn't trying to say you're not smart. It's just, you're missing something really obvious. I guess I can understand how you wouldn't see it—after all, Ron is with Lavender—but he doesn't need to fall for you. He did that back in fourth year. Why do you think he was so mad about you and Krum? He couldn't stand you being with him. But Ron didn't want to wreck your friendship or make it awkward or anything by asking you out, because he was scared of losing you entirely. So he started looking for other people to date, to try to take his mind off of you, because he was sure that you'd never go for him. Lavender was really convenient. She was already head-over-heels for him, so he didn't have to do much. And now that he's with her, he's enjoying the relationship—I think it's refreshing for him to be around someone who thinks he's the most amazing person ever, since you and I often get the spotlight instead (okay, mostly me), and Lavender doesn't judge him or get mad at him like you do. She's a simple girl to please, unlike you, and I think he likes not having to be on his toes all the time around her like he has to be with you. But that's it.
"The problem is his pride. He doesn't want to admit that he's settling for Lavender because he doesn't think he can have you. He doesn't want to admit that he was wrong to ever date her. He wants to think he knows what he's doing and that he can do whatever he wants. It's not true, but he wants to think it, and I don't think you'll be able to dissuade him without making him really mad. Male pride is easily wounded, and you don't want to see what wounded male pride looks like. It's not pretty."
"So what do I do?" I asked once Harry had finished his long explanation.
"Wait, I guess," he suggested. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know what's going on but I don't know what to do about it."
I leaned against him, emotionally exhausted. "Why does he have to have pride?"
"Oh, come on, like you don't have it too," Harry shot back immediately.
"But that's—that's—" I protested.
"Look, Hermione, if you'd begged him to go out with you at any point in the past couple of years, he would have done it."
That hurt, and I told him so.
"I'm sorry," he replied. "But you can't blame Ron exclusively for this situation. I know how it feels. I didn't take advantage of the last time Ginny was single, either. I know what you're going through. But you have to get used to the idea that, if you don't take what you want, someone else will take it. Ron learned that with the Krum episode, but then he was too much of an idiot to ask you out earlier—well, and he was afraid of rejection and awkwardness. For the same reasons, I've never asked Ginny out."
"Screw it, I hate being a teenager," I groaned moodily.
"Me too, Hermione," Harry agreed, holding me. "Me too."
A/N: Reviews and favorites are lovely!