That Unexplainable Feeling

A/N: Hey! The idea for this popped into my head the other day and within an hour I'd managed to construct an entire story! I hope you like it and I'd love to know what you think, so please feel free to let me know! This story disregards books six and seven and is set in the trio's seventh year. Happy Reading!

Summary: Who would have thought that one stupid little kiss could lead to blackmail and an unusual relationship? What you do in the darkness doesn't necessarily always come to light – at least, not when you're skilled in the art of deception…

Let's not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it. ~Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

Chapter One: The Pivotal Moment…

"Harry James Potter, is that alcohol you're drinking?"

Harry turned towards the source of the familiar sounding voice and smiled sheepishly. There was no use denying the obvious truth, especially when he was holding a glass of liquid that looked nothing like an innocent glass of water.

"Yes, Hermione, it is but…"

It seemed that honesty wasn't something to be rewarded in Hermione Granger's book, for no sooner had the words left his lips, did she proceed to hit him on the back of his head, hard.

"We have classes tomorrow! Or had you forgotten? Honestly Harry, it's our final year! The only year without the threat of impending death looming over us, and you seem perfectly content with getting into unnecessary trouble!"

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes, knowing it would only anger the brunette more, and settled for sending her a lopsided grin that made him look boyish and playful.

"It's a Halloween party Hermione! Drinking is sort of compulsory! Plus it's not like I'm drinking to get drunk!"

Hermione scoffed, her eyes not mimicking the mirth present in his own.

"Oh, well, that's alright then! Never mind the fact that you'll be sleep deprived tomorrow morning and in a foul mood all day! You'll fall asleep in all of your classes and won't have any notes, and who'll have to pick up the pieces? Me. As always!"

Harry frowned as she went off into a rant about how thoughtless he was being, and realised that she wasn't actually talking about him. Well, she was. But her anger wasn't directed towards him. He knew that she'd had an argument with her boyfriend of a year and six months, Viktor Krum, before she'd left home that morning for the station, but he'd simply assumed that it was just water under the bridge. Nothing serious - Viktor and Hermione's arguments were hardly a rare occurrence. But clearly by the state she was in, that wasn't the case.

He gently took her arm and led her to one side, a serious yet soothing expression on his face.

"Mione, does this have anything to do with Viktor?"

Hermione's eyes snapped to his and the hurt in her eyes answered for her. He sighed and attempted to pull her into a brotherly hug, but she quickly pulled away.

"Don't Harry – I don't need your pity. You and Ron both told me that things would be difficult, but I chose to ignore you. I'm just as much to blame as he is."

She shot him a sad smile before grabbing a butter beer and walking towards the portrait hole. Harry understood that she needed time to herself, and quashed the urge to follow her, instead choosing to amble over to where Ginny was sitting. His relationship with the youngest redheaded Weasley may have been rocky for the past few months since the war, but that was something that he was eager to change. They'd ended their relationship amicably, and things had been fine for a while – the final battle occupying their every thought for so long. But now that it was all over, Harry realised that he couldn't ignore the aching feeling in the middle of his gut any longer. He missed her, and he wanted her back.

x-x-x

Hermione stepped out of the portrait hole, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Since that morning, she hadn't had a single moment to herself, and now that the day was almost over, the exhaustion had caught up with her. She took a sip of her drink and began to walk – to where she wasn't exactly sure, but her feet seemed to know what they were doing. As she passed portraits of forgotten wizards and witches, and rusty suits of armour, she pondered her disastrous relationship with the Wizarding world's greatest Quidditch player of all time. When had it all gone so horribly wrong?

A year and six months ago, a sweet, slightly reserved man had asked her out, and she had accepted because she liked him and found him incredibly cute. They had dated a few times after that until he kissed her lightly on the cheek and asked her to be his girlfriend. A bubbly excitement had filled her insides and she'd said yes, not realising how different her life was going to be. It had never occurred to her that people would actually care about whom Bulgaria's hottest star was seeing, and she soon became the subject of public scrutiny.

Hermione had never cared about what people thought of her – she wasn't on a mission to please people. But even she had been affected by the constant attention she was receiving. It disgusted her to see how the media actually worked – it turned out that Rita Skeeter was a mere amateur compared to the other literary sharks out there. Added to the stress of the war and the constant studying she was doing, not to mention research for the Order and the fear that engulfed every fibre of her, it was safe to say that her relationship with Viktor was strained to say the least.

Then there was the fact that he was never around. He was either training or off in another country, a million miles away from her. They would write to each other, but the pressures of their everyday lives seemed to restrict how often they were able to indulge in this. It got to the point where she didn't even feel as though she had a boyfriend, and she knew she only had herself to blame. It wasn't as though she hadn't been warned – Ron had protested until he was blue in the face and Harry had tried reasoning with her on innumerable occasions, but she'd simply chosen to ignore them. After all, she was Hermione Granger, and she never made bad choices.

"Hermione? What in Merlin's name are you doing here? The party's in that direction!"

Hermione blinked and allowed her brain to register that she was on the opposite side of the castle, and Ronald Weasley was in front of her with a bottle of fire whiskey in one hand and a plate of cakes in the other. He was smiling at her with a mixture of amusement and confusion, and she found herself smiling back, as if it were contagious.

"I know, I just needed some time to myself," she said quietly. Realisation hit him and he pulled her into an awkward hug that consisted of him having to somehow balance the items he was holding around her small frame. She leaned into his warm body and clung to him as if her life depended on it. He started to talk to her in a sympathetic voice, but all she could hear was a faint buzzing sound. Words didn't matter to her anymore – all she wanted was closeness, and he was giving that to her. All she'd wanted in eighteen months was for Viktor to hold her close and give her comfort, and she'd been deprived of it. Now, it didn't matter who she received it from, simply that she got it.

They stayed like that for a while, until she pulled away slightly. His musky scent becoming too overpowering for her and she suddenly felt a little light headed.

"Thanks Ron, I really needed that," she said quietly.

Ron smiled and pulled her a little closer.

"You deserve better than that git Mione. He's not worth your tears…"

As Hermione watched him try to convince her about how she could do better, she suddenly felt the urge to be closer to him. The pure affection and care in his eyes made her feel loved, and she hadn't felt that in a long while. Suddenly all sense and reason left her, and all she wanted to do was be as close to him as possible.

So she tilted her head up and kissed him.

There were no sparks, no shivers of pleasure. Just confusion and determination jumbled together. Ron, for his credit, simply stood there motionless in shock, his brain not registering the situation.

After a few moments, she finally realised what she was doing and pulled away. Her whole body prickled with shame and embarrassment, so much so that she couldn't find the strength to even look at Ron in the eyes. Instead, she did the one thing that would make her question why she was ever put in Gryffindor. She ran. As fast as her legs could carry her, all the while ignoring the red-head's concerned pleas for her to stop.