Disclaimer: They're not mine. But oh, what fun I'd have if they were...

How Strange
By WitchyWays 13

"Forgive us now for what we've done.
It started out as a bit of fun."
- Nick Cave, "O Children"

She sat on the step, curled into a tight ball, trying not to cry. She was tired, more tired than she'd been in her life. Weeks spent on the move, every ounce of her energy working towards a goal she had doubts she'd ever reach. Every second spent thinking a litany of thoughts, a running monologue in her head. She ruminated endlessly on horcruxes, Ron, the mysterious mark, protective spells...

The locket only amplified her thoughts until they threatened to make her go insane. Thoughts like a waterfall rushing over a cliff, unable to be stopped. When the locket was passed back to Harry, it was as though someone had turned down the volume in her mind. She was grateful then.

She sat on the step. The wireless next to her had been untouched since Ron's departure two weeks before. Harry was standing guard outside the tent, she could see his dark silhouette when the breeze blew the tent flap open. She reached over to the wireless and snapped it on. The blue neon stripes across the top blazed bright. She turned the knob, flipping through the Muggle stations. No magic tonight. She was too tired to bother. She settled on a song, the male singer's gruff voice and his choir-like backup somewhat comforting to her.

Harry came back into the tent, flopping down into a chair several feet away from her. She glanced up at him and felt hot tears springing into her eyes. The locket made a ticking sound, and she was acutely aware of its cold metal shape pressed against her skin. Harry... She'd risked her life for him, given up everything for him. He was her best friend. He never asked her to join him, to help him. She'd been the one who'd offered, she knew he needed her. Ron too.

Ron... Her other best friend. How strange the relationship between herself and these two boys must seem to others. Lavender and Parvati would whisper amongst themselves sometimes, wondering how a girl like that could get not one but two boys all to herself. This was before last year, she mused, before Lavender managed to catch Ron in her sticky web. But it wasn't like that at all. It wasn't Harry she loved, it was Ron. Always Ron. Harry needed a strong counterpart, someone not so concerned with obsessive logic and details. A dreamer with a core of steel. That was Ginny. Ron needed a foil, a cool head to balance his overheated one. Someone to keep him on track and away from distractions. Someone with whom he could quarrel and sometimes feel like he was winning. That was Hermione.

She almost felt guilty for missing Ron so much. After those hurtful words he'd hurled at Harry. How he'd just stormed out of the tent without looking back. She'd followed him out, pulled on him arm, pleaded with him. He glanced over at her with anger in his slate-blue eyes. And without a word, he'd disapparated into the dead of night. The memory of his eyes burned her still.

A tear found its way down her cheek, and she brushed it away. She looked up to see Harry standing before her, offering his hand. Sighing, she took it. He pulled her up and reached around her neck to unclasp the locket. The music filled the tent as he took her hands again, pulling her arms back and forth in a kind of clumsy dance. She cracked a smile in spite of herself as she returned the movement in kind. Now Harry was smiling, his eyes sparkling with the mischevious glint she hadn't seen in a long time. He twirled her and chuckled softly, she twirled him likewise and grinned back. They danced together to the Muggle song, the melancholy melody bringing them back to life. She felt like her old self for a fleeting moment. Like the world hadn't come crashing down around her. She laughed, she danced.

The song ended and Harry embraced her. He rested his stubbly chin on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. She lay her hand on his shoulder, resting her chin upon it. How she wished this was Ron. Ron should be here, pressed up against her, his hand against the small of her back. A tear fell down her face as she broke away from Harry. Staring momentarily into his eyes, and unable to read his expression, she then made a beeline for her cot. There she laid down, sobbing. She did not see the hurt and confused look on Harry's face. She was only aware of her own pain at that moment, the hopeless thoughts growing louder within her brain.

She gasped when she felt Harry's hand touch her hair. He tucked the honey-brown strands behind her ear and knelt beside her. She looked at him sideways as her head lay on the pillow, but she could see her shared pain in his eyes. He missed Ron too, she realized. Perhaps not as much as she, but the regret Harry felt was plain on his face. She could kiss this man, whose sad face so resembled the one she remembered from her bedside in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. In their second year, she'd mistakingly turned herself into a cat, and Harry had visited her so diligently, always trying to cheer her up. He hated to see her unhappy, a trait he'd never outgrown.

Propping herself up on her elbow, she took Harry's hand in her own, then placed it upon his stubbled cheek. He kissed her open palm, a gesture that made her smile. Quicker than her mind could process, his lips were on hers. She was shocked at their softness. Then her mind came back to her. Why was she kissing Harry? Why was she enjoying it? She made a small noise in the back of her throat, half sigh and half sob. Harry broke the kiss, his eyes pleading to continue.

She shook her head no, pulling her hand away from his face. How strange, she thought again, as Harry got up and walked back to his own cot. How strange that she should love two boys in such different ways. How strange that she should find herself on a lumpy cot in a freezing cold tent in the middle of December. How strange that she could say she had no family, and believe it. How strange it was that she missed Ron so very much, when she had never told him of her love for him.

The taste of Harry was still on her lips when she drifted off to sleep. The refrains of the song they had danced to still echoed in her head.

"Hey little train! We're all jumping on
The train that goes to the kingdom
We're happy, Ma, we're having fun
It's beyond my wildest expectation"
- Nick Cave, "O Children"

-End