Harry sighed as he stood up. The innkeeper had finally left the bar for the storage room where, as Harry had learned during a half-hour's droning conversation with the man, he would take stock of his napkins. Harry walked slowly to the staircase leading to the rooms above, and as he climbed, he considered his situation. Although he was positive that no one but he, Ron, Hermione, and the innkeeper knew where they were, he was still worried that they would be discovered. He paused momentarily on the second to last stair and calculated how long they had been at the inn—surely not more than an hour? He let out a breath he had not realized he'd been holding and finished his ascent. Perhaps there was no need to be worried—yet. Even so, the feeling of blood pounding through his veins was a difficult one to get used to.
Harry continued down the hallway toward the room he, Ron, and Hermione had rented just before dinner. Chuckling to himself as he recalled their slight puzzlement when the innkeeper asked how many rooms they wanted, Harry approached the room he thought might be theirs. After attempting to open the door, he discovered that the room was not, in fact, theirs. He deliberated for a moment on the spot; it had a four and a three, he thought as he saw room 143. As he turned around, though, to look at the doors behind him, he reconsidered—maybe it was a four and a six that he remembered (room 146). He thought about just running along the corridors, shouting his friends names, then decided against it; anyone might hear him.
"My God, I'm getting paranoid," he said to himself as he reached for the doorknob to the room that he finally recognized as his own (136). He was looking forward to a quiet night with Ron and Hermione, with perhaps a chess game or two, saving all important conversation for the following morning. His peaceful ruminations, however, were abruptly shattered as he opened the door and discovered Ron and Hermione snogging in a chair, directly in front of him.
They obviously had not heard him come in, for they continued until Ron finally caught a glimpse of the expression on Harry's face. Harry could only assume that he looked dumbstruck based on the rapidity with which he pulled away from Hermione. Hermione, who was currently sitting on Ron's lap, whipped her head around to face Harry, inserting quite a bit of hair into Ron's mouth in the process.
Before either of them could say anything, though, Harry forced a smile and shut the door. He heard brief, mumbled voices behind the door, but evidently they decided not to come after him because the door remained shut. Harry was glad of this, at least. Although he had half a mind to walk back in and destroy the romance in an effort to carry out the peaceful night he had had in mind earlier, he knew he wouldn't.
He had not seen Ron and Hermione even touch each other in the three months since Dumbledore's funeral, but he knew they were together, nonetheless. While it was rather shocking to discover this aspect of their relationship, he was not so much alarmed as he was envious. If only he could have Ginny with him…
Harry sat against the wall and stared up at he shiny numbers as he longed for a return to the normalcy he had felt with her. Bill and Fleur's wedding had been particularly painful, and he swallowed as he remembered how beautiful she had looked. Although he had allowed himself to talk to her, he had had to force himself to look away whenever she laughed…and then he had had to tangle his hands together in his lap so he would not reach out to touch her…
It was at moments like these, when he recognized the love that the people around him were allowed to share, that threatened his resolve to stay away from Ginny. If his one power was his ability to love, why must he force himself away from what made him most able to express it?
Common sense returned to him soon, dousing his furious regrets. He had a life to live, and he had chosen how to live it for the time being. He could be happy for Ron and Hermione, not only because they were his best friends, but also because he could empathize with their feelings.
And to comfort him, Harry had Ginny's final words before their parting at the Burrow: "I'm waiting, Harry. If you need more incentive than that to keep yourself alive, know that I love you." She had ended with a slight shrug of her shoulders and walked away. Harry smile slightly at the memory and whispered to no one as he headed back downstairs to the inn's parlor, "I'll try my best."
…And in the meantime he had an infinite amount of teasing available to him. He could just picture the shade of scarlet that Ron's face would turn in a just a few hours…