Harry could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when he arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted his appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating him. What with trying to shake off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls that encircled him, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time before he could try and find Ron. At last, he extricated himself from Romilda Vane, who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him. As he was ducking toward the drinks table, be walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her should and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.
"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."
Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.
"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry."
She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, but then she walked off to help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.
Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking feeling, he thought he saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight.
He darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside seemed to be deserted.
"Hermione?"
He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Harry could not help admiring her spellwork at a time like this.
"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."
"Yeah… they're – er – really good…" said Harry.
He had no idea what to say to her. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, that she had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when she said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."
"Er… does he?" said Harry.
"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it was he?"
Harry walked forward to sit next to Hermione on the teacher's desk, awkwardly turning to face her so that they're knees were touching and he was in the perfect position to see her avoiding his gaze.
Looking supremely interested in her shoes, Hermione asked quietly, "How does it feel, when you see Dean with Ginny?"
Surprised at this perceptiveness, though he supposed maybe he shouldn't be, Harry's instincts for denial kicked in. "Er… I don't know what you mean, Hermione," Harry said.
"I know," said Hermione. "I see the way you look at her."
Harry thought he heard Hermione sniff. If there was one thing Harry knew that he was not brave or talented enough to face, it was another crying girl. He awkwardly put his arm around her shoulders. "It feels like this," he said.
Hermione looked up and Harry was surprised at the look in her eyes. She appeared an odd mixture of contemplative, flustered, and sad, and a moment before her eyes fluttered shut he swore he saw them harden in determination. It was what happened next that was truly unexpected, for Hermione Granger, his best friend, had pressed her lips hesitantly against his in a truly perplexing and unforeseen kiss.
Perhaps even more perplexing was how a moment later it was Harry's hand tangled in her bushy mane of hair, and his other hand on her waist pulling her closer to him. In the foggy haze that was their ill-advised lip-locking, Harry could not help but think that Hermione's lips were very soft, and definitely not wet. Much later he would reflect that he did not think of Ginny at all.
In the next moment, however, when perhaps it might have begun to register in Harry's mind that he definitely should not be kissing Hermione, the door behind them burst open. They sprang apart, and, to Harry's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.
"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.
"Oops!" said Lavender. "It looks like we're interrupting!" She winked at the both of them, and began to back out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.
There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione's eyes were wide in horror as she stared at Ron, who refused to look at her, or Harry for that matter. With an odd mixture of contempt and awkwardness, Ron said, "Wondered where you'd got to," before exiting the room after Lavender.
Harry turned himself back towards Hermione, who promptly burst into tears, and said through a sob, "Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!"
Harry, quite frankly, was stunned. In less than a minute it seemed that he had unintentionally and irreversible changed, and arguably not for the better, his friendships with both of his best friends. And he was left with a crying girl, which had been precisely what he had wanted to avoid that evening.
"Er… it's okay, Hermione," said Harry, in an entirely unhelpful attempt to placate her.
It was no use, however, for Hermione continued to sob. "Oh, Harry! No, it's not. I don't know what came over me! I was just so upset about Ronald, and you were here, and we both seemed unhappy, and I don't know why I did what I did! I didn't mean to, and now I've just ruined everything!" Here she paused to hiccup, at which point Harry wrapped his arms awkwardly around her shoulders in a tense hug. "He's going to be so mad!" said Hermione, though it was muffled as her head was buried in Harry's jumper.
And though Ron certainly had seemed mad, Harry certainly wanted Hermione to stop crying, so he said, "Well what grounds does he have to be angry if he was eating Lavender's face not five minutes before… well, er, you know…"
Hermione, thankfully, pulled away from Harry and wiped the corner of her eyes with her jumper, though she continued to sniff. "Well I suppose…" hiccup, "that he did start it…" said Hermione. "Oh, but Harry, you're his best friend!"
"Yes, well, er… we have had worse spats, I suppose."
"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry that I've been so terrible to you lately," said Hermione, averting her eyes from the general direction Harry was in again. "With that bloody potions book and Malfoy and accusing you of spiking Ron's pumpkin juice this morning, I've been a right nightmare. And now this!"
"You don't have to apologize, Hermione…"
"No, I do. Even if I don't agree with you, I've been a terrible friend."
"Hermione," interrupted Harry, "you couldn't be a terrible friend if you tried."
Harry was not prepared for this simple absolution to cause Hermione to launch herself forward in what was a patented, bone-crushing, Hermione hug. Which resulted in them both tumbling off of the teacher's desk to the floor in an undignified heap. Harry found himself on top of Hermione, supporting himself on his elbows as not to add asphyxiation to the list of the day's mishaps. "Oh, Hermione, are you alright?" said Harry.
Hermione started to laugh, and as Harry rolled off of her to lie next to her on the cold stone floor of the deserted classroom, he began to laugh too. "This whole situation has spiraled out of control rather quickly, hasn't it?" Hermione gasped from beside him as her laughter subsided.
"It certainly has," Harry replied as he stood up, pulling Hermione to her feet after him.
"I'm sorry if I've made things terribly awkward. I can't even imagine what Ronald thinks we've been conspiring against him now," said Hermione fretfully, her laughter now thoroughly dissipated.
"Well, I don't suppose we'd be able to convince him that we aren't secretly dating now if we tried." Harry replied.