Author's Note: No, the title is not the same as the last one. Really, please, do keep up.

So many of you had called the last chapter sweet that I'm afraid to give you diabetes. Though, if any of you do want diabetes, it can be arranged. You just send me Harry Potter for Christmas and I send you an absurd amount of chocolate.

While writing, a single line of song was stuck in my head: "I kissed a girl and I liked it".

Edit2: Final spell-check done. Sorry for not having it done before. I've been doing it on a train with poor Internet connection and the changes must not have been saved.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I dare claim that I do, for fear of an angry Hermione Granger cursing the next piece of paper I sign so that I get pimples reading: 'boyfriend stealer' if I ever dare claim it. Actually, I don't know if she already hadn't done that.

Harry is a She!

Chapter 11

Woefully Wondrous Wooing

or

Chapter 10 part 2

Wet. Soft. Hot in the cold air. Her lips against his own.

A moment of bliss.

A pull back.

She stared at him wide-eyed. He hoped it was the good kind of wide. Wasn't it?

"Harry... what was that?"

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

"A... kiss?" he tried.

He groaned internally. Why did he always have to sound so stupid? In a moment like that?

"You... kissed me?" her voice hitched.

For a moment his brain stopped, literally unable to process the question.

"Errr, yeah."

Why would she even ask that?

She stared at him as though he had just said they'd been both reSorted into Slytherin.

"You kissed me?"

He frowned at the repeated question.

"Well, yes, I did, or at least I think I did. Even discounting that this is one of my crazy dreams, there's always the possibility that you kissed me, but even if you initiated the kiss, wouldn't it mean that we both participated, so we both kissed each other, so even then I have, in fact, kissed you."

He realised he was blabbering and shut the hell up, now looking over her shoulder, not daring to glance at her, all the while trying to pretend that the scarlet blush that he sported was a result of cold.

It was not.

Then he took a breath, braced himself and looked at Hermione. Her mouth was playing goldfish.

It made him think of kissing her all over again, but he really shouldn't.

And why the hell not? In for a kiss, in for two kisses, right? She certainly wasn't opposed to the first one, so why should this one be any different?

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

She didn't respond.

He pulled back, feeling like he's done something wrong and not knowing why.

"Maybe we should just go back to the castle?"

She nodded and he led her back. He definitely had cleared his head enough.

Somewhere along the way, they let go of their hands.

The second week of the year 1996 was not good. Not at all.

On the surface, everything seemed alright. Nothing changed. The two of them plus Luna still met regularly in the Library, wasting their time trying to come up with a way to bring down Voldemort. He still did everything he could to get them to take breaks. Ron still hadn't lost a single chess match (except the one that totally didn't count, he swears). Luna was still, well, Luna. Lavender still wasn't wearing a bra in their dorm room. And Hermione, because he couldn't avoid thinking about her forever, still seemed to be plotting against him.

Nothing changed. Why hadn't it?

He would've thought that after a date and a kiss, a kiss she had returned, mind you, something would have changed. At least one thing, please?

No?

Well, there were the small things, like sitting a tiny bit further away from him, or maybe he had just imagined it?

Maybe he had imagined the slight frown that he could see when he would catch her staring this week.

Maybe he had imagined that she very rarely, if ever, hooked her arm around his anymore.

Maybe he had imagined her leaning out of the way when he tried to go for another kiss on Thursday.

Okay, maybe not. Those things did happen, apparently. But he didn't count them as changes. More of unchanges.

Wait, no, unchanged meant something hadn't changed, didn't it? How does one say it changed back? Dischanged? Rechanged? Damn it, he better ask Hermione about it.

Except he couldn't, could he now?

Long story short, Hermione has been pulling away from him and for the life of him, he could not understand why.

How could he? She hadn't said anything. One moment they're both over the moon and the next she shuts down and ignores him.

Was it something he'd done? He couldn't think of a single thing. Well, there was the kiss, two of them really, but why would it be a problem, if nothing before it had been?

Maybe she just didn't like him that way. That he would understand, had she just gone ahead and said it. Except she hadn't. She pretty much pretend nothing had happened.

It really hurt. Was his affection worth nothing?

And if it bothered her so much, why hadn't she stopped it before the kiss? Was she so oblivious as to not notice how close they'd acted with each other? No, he couldn't believe that. She was Hermione, after all.

His insides boiled at these thoughts, but he couldn't let himself be mad at her for long. He had taken a risk and he'd lost. It was all fair game. She had the right not to want him.

He just needed to hear it from her.

"Hermione."

She turned as he tugged at her robes, then he let go. People streamed past them as they stood in the middle of the corridor.

"Y-yes, Harry?" she asked in a decidedly not shaky voice. No, it's not shaking.

"Can we talk?" he bit his lip.

Tell him no, please, tell him no!

She couldn't.

He wasn't even raking his fingers through his long hair like he normally would, completely messing up his ponytail, when he was stressed or embarrassed. No. His hands hung by his skirt. Not limply, but held there with overwhelming strength of will.

Had she broken him?

"Of course, you can always talk to me." she smiled with such fake sweetness it made her nauseated.

He pointed to an empty classroom and offered his hand, which she took on reflex.

His hands were as soft and gentle as she remembered.

She caught herself and let go as soon as they entered the room. Then it hit her: he wasn't even sweating. What was wrong with him?

His eyes followed her falling hand and she realised he noticed the lack of the ring. She hid it behind her back.

Don't mention it, please, oh God, don't let him mention it.

"You can wear it, you know."

It was official: there was no God. Or at least none at Hogwarts to help her. Maybe He really didn't like witches, just like her confessor used to say...

She shook her head. It was not the right time for an existential crisis.

Unfortunately, Harry completely misinterpreted her head-shaking.

"It's yours. Do with it whatever you want."

Now she was raking her hand through her hair, making it bushier than usually.

"You didn't call me here to talk about jewellery, did you?"

He gauged her with the same impassive stare.

"You're right. I didn't."

And then he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And...

Guess what?

Yes. He waited.

Damn him.

She shifted nervously and pursed her lips. Because what was she supposed to say? 'My reasons are beyond your understanding'? Yeah, pull another one, Granger.

He started pacing, the robe billowing behind him.

"So, Hermione, you know, there are people."

Oh God, no. It was happening.

"And among the people, there are those who like each other."

He had started talking to her like to a child.

"And among those, there are the people who like each other more than others..."

Oh, screw him! (she wished, but it just wasn't possible.)

"I know how people work, Harry." she said steadily, crossing her arms.

"Oh, do you?" he cocked a brow and mirrored her. "Then maybe you'll be able to explain what happened between us."

"Maybe I don't want to talk about it, huh?" she snapped.

"Yeah, I've gathered that much." he glared at her.

She tried to glare at him. And failed.

His expression softened and he sighed. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it.

"You know, I'd say that I just need an answer, but from how you've been behaving this last week, I've already got all the answer I'll ever need." he cleaned the glasses with the hem of his shirt, either unaware or uncaring that he was showing off his knickers.

They were whites.

Damn, they still really were comfortable around each other. It jabbed at her heart.

"I accept that it's your choice who you choose, obviously, and I almost made peace with it not being me. I just need to hear it from you."

She bit her lip. And chewed.

"Come on, Hermione, give me any reason. A simple 'I don't like you that way' would be enough!" he raised his slender hands dramatically, one still holding his glasses, as though calling to the Heavens for salvation.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"It's not like that, Harry." she said, opening her eyes. "I do like you that way."

Tink.

His glasses fell to the floor and cracked.

He didn't notice.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

She huffed in exasperation, blowing her fringe away and making it fall into her face. Then she fixed it, covering the smile that crept onto her face.

There was her Harry.

"I said I do like you that way. We kissed, remember?"

He cleared his throat.

"Uh, twice."

"And how many times did I punch you in the bollocks for it?" she teased.

"None, but I don't have any bollocks, so it doesn't really count." though it sounded sour, he did smirk at the end.

Oh, how she missed this adorable idiot.

"Wait." he held a hand up and she could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "Does that mean... that you... want to me... I mean, to be... with me?"

She bit her lip so much was pretty sure it would fall off.

Here it was. The kicker. The moment of truth.

The one thing she could not say.

"Harry, I..."

His brow furrowed.

"It's a simple question, I think. Yes or no?"

If only things were so simple. If only she could explain.

She began squirming under his undivided attention.

"Harry, I honestly can't say... I mean... Not yet?"

She prayed to God that he would accept that. She got the distinct feeling that perhaps God didn't care about witches, just didn't like her personally.

"What does it mean 'not yet'?" Harry stepped closer.

She took a step back. He frowned.

"What is it, Hermione? What's the problem? I thought we were perfect for each other?"

"I need time, okay?"

"For what? What could you possibly need time for?!"

"I don't like girls!" she blurted and immediately clasped her hand over her mouth.

He was looking at her in shock, frozen mid-step.

She hoped, wished and prayed that she could take it back, but all for nothing.

The cat was already out of the bag. The Sun was only once turned back and this would not be a second. Now she had to chase it.

She took a step forward.

"I don't like girls, but I do like you, Harry, and it terrifies me. I kissed you and I liked it." she touched his forearm gently. "I keep telling myself that it's not just any girl, it's you, it's Harry, my best friend whom I've known as a guy for four years and who had finally pulled his head out of his ass and asked me out like I've dreamed for years."

His mouth shaped a silent 'What?' but she pushed on.

"But right now you're a girl and kissing you I know I'm kissing a girl, and I like it and it's freaking me out!" she took his hands in hers and was caressing them softly. "So can't we just wait a little?"

He had been watching their joined hands but now he looked up sharply.

"Wait? For what?"

"The ritual. It's only six weeks from now and you'll be yourself again!" she felt terrible telling him that but what else could she do?

He pulled up his palms to stare at them and then looked at her in a challenge.

"If I'm not myself, who am I?"

"Maybe I worded it wrong, but..."

"No," he pulled away from her. "you worded it perfectly. I'm not the guy you used to know."

She stepped closer.

"But you will be."

She tried to reach for his hand but he wouldn't let her.

"But I'm not right now. Have you thought of what it means? What if I only 'pulled my head out of my ass' as you've eloquently put it, because I have girl bit and girl hormones affecting my girl brain, huh? Have you thought of that?!"

She hadn't but she wasn't about to let it stop her now.

"So what? You've finally got some sense into your head, if it's because of female hormones, all the better! At least something good will come out of this whole ordeal. You've finally unlocked some part of your brain that was stuck all this time, and I'll be damned if I let you lock it back up! And I think I'm perfectly capable of affecting your male hormones as well, thank you very much." she crossed her arms and puffed out her chest for effect.

It didn't help.

By now he was once again tousling his hair, slumped his shoulders (basically all his joints slumped) and he looked more defeated than at the beginning of the conversation.

He sniffed.

"I hate to break it to you, but it won't work."

She bit her lip, again, but tried for a tease.

"What won't work? My female wiles?"

Actually, she was tasting blood now.

"The ritual."

What?

"What?"

What?

"The ritual." he repeated. "It won't work."

She gaped, blood slowly dripping from her bitten lip.

How did he know?

"Of course it will work." she said despite herself. "We planned everything perfectly."

"Oh, yeah?" his eyes betrayed a hint of anger. "Maybe you forgot, but we have to kidnap the most powerful wizard in the world!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world."

"Yeah? Then why is he acting like a child, huh?"

She frowned. What was it really about?

"Are you going to blame him for your own ideas now?"

"It wasn't my idea to wreck the entire school! And I still have calluses from all the cleaning!"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't taken him drinking..." she drawled, already knowing she was being unfair.

"He's the adult here, and the Headmaster, he's supposed to know better than that!"

"Fine! Have it your way. But what does it have to do with You-Know-Who?"

"If we can't even rely on Dumbledore, how are we supposed to do it?"

"I don't know! We'll figure something out, we always do!"

"You always figure something out, but not this time." he seethed. "Sorry, but you're not the next Dumbledore!"

That hurt. Not that she thought herself as brilliant as him, but Dumbledore was her role model and that jibe hurt.

But she pushed on.

"Well, there has to be a way. We only need a drop of his blood, maybe we can get it without direct confrontation..."

"Yeah, let's Summon it while we're at it. Accio Voldemort's blood." he waved his wand mockingly.

A hundred miles away, Tom Riddle felt his heart hurt and decided that maybe that second coffee was a mistake.

"I don't know." Hermione said desperately. "Maybe?"

"So you're really going to bet this thing we have on blood magic, a senile former Headmaster and a maybe?"

She took a step forward.

"Harry, I..."

He raised a hand.

"Spare me. I heard you the first time. You don't like girls and you don't want me as long as I am one, which is going to be always. I think we're done here."

She opened her mouth to protest, to correct him, to make it better somehow, but no words came out. None could. There was nothing that could be said to fix this.

The silence between them was so deep that they even could hear the crunching beneath her feet.

Stepping back, she looked down to see the trampled remains of Harry's glasses.

She drew her wand to fix them, but he was faster with an:

"Accio broken glasses!"

The shards flew into the pocket of his robes and he stormed away.

Hermione dropped to her knees, crying.

She didn't know how long she kneeled there, but eventually her wand's buzzing drew her out of her stupor and she wiped her eyes.

There was a potion to attend. The ritual had to work. It was her only hope. Even if she didn't believe in it herself.

After storming out of the classroom, Harry run all the way up to the Gryffindor Tower, where he collapsed face-first on his bed.

His bed, that wasn't even in the right room.

What had been right since the graveyard?

Stupid question.

Damn it!

He had taken the risk and he lost. He had been ready for this.

Fuck it! What kind of thinking was that? Was it supposed to make him feel better? Because it certainly had not.

His life sucked. Now the only person who he believed would stick by him had turned him away because he wasn't the right gender.

Ironic, wasn't it? Just when he started accepting that he'd be stuck like this forever, she'd gone and ditched him because of it!

Fuck her.

(he didn't even know if he wanted to anymore.)

What he needed now was a distraction. Something to drown out the pain and betrayal.

Anything.

His gaze fell on the trunk at the feet of the bed.

Well, there was something.

And didn't he think it'd be fun to focus on that? Well, maybe not his entire life, but just a few hours...

He pulled out the magazine, feeling his heart burning in his chest.

He lay on the bed. The pages flew open. The images burnt in his eyes. Fire roared in his chest.

Then, he did something he'd never done before. He touched his bits on purpose. He didn't know why he did it. They simply demanded to be touched.

Then, his eyes fell on a pretty brunette doing some very exciting things on the page. She had freckles on her face, and big curls, like Hermione's...

Oh, for fuck's sake.

He had done all that to stop thinking about her, but now that it happened, he began seeing her in all the girls in the magazine.

In the hair.

The eyes.

The curve of their lips.

The confident poses they took.

Each had something that reminded him of her.

"Damn it all to hell!" he shrieked as he threw the magazine against the wall.

He whipped out his wand and set it on fire.

It wouldn't bother him ever again. He knew it had been sent to him as an insult, and now it ended with one. He deemed it fitting.

It didn't do anything to ease his pain, though, so left the burning porn behind, to go look for Ron. Maybe he would have an idea of what to do.

It turned out to be hard to forget about Hermione whirl hanging out with Ron because, guess what, the three of them had such long history together that every memory they shared included all three of them.

So, Harry did all in his power to avoid digging out memories.

It wasn't that easy.

They played chess but it reminded him of when Hermione (totally not legitimately) beat Ron.

They went to the kitchens but the mere sight of the elves brought to mind her crazy hat-crusade.

They moved to the Great Hall but all he could think of was the night they danced together (and got stupid drunk).

They finally took out the meal into the snowy grounds, but when Harry saw Ron eat, he could almost hear Hermione admonishing him for his table manners.

Then they went flying, which worked fine for a while, until Harry remembered how he got his Firebolt and shunned Hermione for two months.

Eventually, they went for a walk around the Lake, trying to talk about anything but Hermione, but then they happened upon the rock from which Harry had cast his first Patronus. With Hermione at his side.

Damn in!

In the end, Harry just led them in a random direction and sat down on a random rock that he had definitely not seen before, and stared at the murky water of the Lake. Which contained the Squid. Which liked scaring students on their traditional boat ride to the castle. Which he took with Hermione.

Oh, sweet Mother of Morgana's left tit hanging into Merlin's soggy sock on fire in the land of bloody pink sparkling goblins!

He hid his face in his hands. Ron sat down next to him.

A soft sob escaped his lips. He felt his friend's arm around him and instinctively leaned into the hug, drawing in the smell of unwashed after-flying armpits and the pork chops they had on the last meal.

Ron sucked at hugging. Hermione was better. And, oh God, he was thinking about her again.

He pulled back, stifled a sniff and wiped his tears surreptitiously. He didn't want Ron to see how big of a mess he was. Well, Ron must already think him crazy, but he didn't want to show weakness. That would mean Hermione won.

He felt Ron leaning into him, so he turned to check what was up, only to be met with the sight of big, wet, parched lips sticking out in his direction.

He pulled back violently and fell with his ass onto the rocky shore.

His eyes bulged at his oldest friend.

"Errr, isn't this the part where we kiss?"

His Harry-brain stopped cursing. That's how bad it was.

"Wh-why would you think that?"

To his growing surprise, Ron actually had an answer.

"Well, we've spent a lot of time together this week, more than in the last few months combined. Today you asked me to spend time specifically only with you and we've been at it for hours: first casualty chess, then eating in various places, then some fun flying, then a romantic walk around the Lake, and now you've been all emotional and stuff..." at Harry's bulging eyes, he added hurriedly: "...and last weekend we split into pairs, you've basically sent me on a date with Loony and took Hermione out, so I assumed we're trying each other out to turn four into two pairs."

To be honest, Harry stopped listening at 'romantic'.

"R-ron," he choked out. "since when there's any shadow of a possibility of there being anything romantic between us?"

"Err, since you're a girl and you've been nice to me?"

He didn't react. He didn't even blink. He was just staring blankly at Ron, not even really seeing him.

Was that enough? Being nice? Is that what people thought served as romantic.

He opened his mouth but no sound came. He spent the next few minutes trying to remember how did one use his vocal cords.

Then, he cleared his throat.

"Ron." he said with emphasis. "I. Am. A. Guy."

Ron grimaced and made an 'unsure' gesture with his hand.

"Not really..." seeing Harry's furious face, he hurriedly added: "You said it yourself that you don't want anyone else's bits!"

Harry raised a brow.

"And what gave you the idea that I can't get mine back?" he asked purely because of his hurt pride.

"Come on, you'd need to kidnap You-Know-Who. Anyone with a brain knows it's not going to work!"

That hit too close to home. It also raised the question: did Hermione know as well? Was she just humouring him?

He gathered himself from the rocky shore.

"Thanks for the honesty, Ron." he said and turned to go back to the castle.

"Uh, so, how about that kiss?" Ron called after him.

"No."

"Maybe tomorrow?" the ginger run after him.

"Not in a million years." he grumbled.

"Oh, come on! You kissed Hermione..."

He rounded on the idiot and grabbed him by the tie. The other boy closed his eyes and puffed out his lips only to be slapped on the face.

"Ow!" he put a hand on his red cheek and looked at Harry in shock.

"I don't know where you heard that but it's none of your business and it certainly does not mean that I'm going to kiss you." he let go of the tie and pushed him away. "Get it into your thick head: I don't like guys."

"Can't you just start liking guys?" Ron asked, probably suffering from a concussion. He better be.

"No. And one last thing: it's none of your, or anyone else's, business what I do with anyone, except me and that person." with that, he turned on the heel and stalked away.

"Harry!" Ron called after him.

All he got in response was a middle finger.