Harry's Dilemma
Chapter Five
"Do you feel okay now, 'Mione?" asked Ron for
what seemed like the hundredth time. Hermione's smile became fondly amused.
"Yes, Ron, I really am
fine." Ensconced in the best armchair
in Gryffindor Common Room with her feet being warmed by a roaring fire and Ron
Weasley dancing attendance on her, Hermione felt she had reached a peak of
nirvana formerly unattained by wizard or muggle. There was a short silence during which Ron appeared to be trying
to nerve himself up to say something.
"'Mione," he began,
after clearing his throat awkwardly. She looked up and smiled.
"Yes, Ron?"
"What you said earlier
– you know, about not being involved with Harry. Was it true?"
"Absolutely and
totally true, Ron." She replied, "And my answer would not change even if you
used Veritaserum."
"I wouldn't insult
you." Replied Ron, uncharacteristically gallant. Hermione decided to have her revenge.
"But why does the
possibility bother you, Ron?" she asked, innocently, "After all, as I said earlier,
you've been trying to matchmake us for quite some while – with no encouragement
whatsoever, I might add." The tips of
Ron's ears reddened.
"To be honest, 'Mione,
I don't know." He began, honestly perplexed, "At first I thought it was a good
idea. Harry's my best friend, you know
– well, my best male friend – and I couldn't think of anyone better to look
after him, considering all he's got to go through in the future. But when I saw you holding his hand earlier,"
Ron involuntarily clenched a fist, "I thought it was the worst idea in the
world."
"Why was that?" He shook his head.
"I suddenly felt that
– well, it just wasn't right, if you know what I mean." Hermione shook her head.
"I don't understand,
Ron. You could hardly object to your
own idea, unless you were suddenly – jealous?" Ron's head snapped up and he flushed to the roots of his hair. Hermione abruptly felt that she might have
gone too far.
"Of course, there
could be a number of other reasons." She began to backtrack.
"Jealous of whom?" demanded
Ron, still red in the face. She
shrugged.
"Well," she began,
losing her nerve, "You could have been jealous of me, for seeming to be
annexing your best friend. If I had
been going out with Harry, we would have had quite an exclusive relationship,
and you might have felt left out." Ron
considered.
"Go on." He said,
expressionlessly. Hermione swallowed on
a suddenly dry throat, but she was no coward.
"Or you could have
been jealous of Harry." Now it was
out. Ron suddenly made eye contact.
"Which do you think it
is?" he asked, in a low intense voice. Hermione shrugged.
"That's not really
something I can answer, Ron: only you know your own heart." The silence seemed to go on forever, then
slowly Ron took her hand in his.
"You know," he said,
almost conversationally, as he began to stroke her fingers gently, "I've often
thought that you were pretty, but I never realised before that you're
beautiful." He flushed suddenly
scarlet: where did that come from?
"Really?" The word
came out on a squeak. Hermione was as
embarrassed as Ron by this time.
"Is that it?" he
muttered, "Was I jealous of Harry - over you? Oh, 'Mione, I never thought …"
"Steady on, Ron."
Hermione cautioned, but she was smiling now and beginning to lean towards him,
"Don't say anything you don't mean." Ron looked intently into her eyes.
"If you're not
involved with Harry," he began, slowly, "Then your embarrassment and occasional
blushes when you were around us – if they weren't for him, then they must have
been – for me?"
She was blushing
furiously now, but all the discomfiture under the sun would not have prevented
her from answering the question.
"Yes, Ron." She said,
calmly, "It was never Harry – always you, right from the start." With a wordless exclamation, Ron made as if
to hug her but paused in trepidation. Frantically, he looked over his shoulder, trying to gauge how long they
had before they would be interrupted by returning Gryffindors.
"Please," he
whispered, as faint footsteps could be heard, "Please, can I – may I … kiss
you?" At the sight of her dear friend
totally at sea, Hermione's heart melted. She had long dreamed about their first kiss happening in the most
romantic setting with all the time in the world to relax and enjoy the
sensation. She was slightly thrown by
the necessity of haste, but she understood what was motivating Ron. It was not the experience itself he was
wanting, but more to set some sort of seal on what his own heart had told him,
to fix her so that she would not slip away from him, to Harry or to anyone
else. It was this knowledge that made
Hermione answer him by leaning forward and pressing her warm, pliant mouth
against his trembling lips. She had
meant it to be short and sweet, a taste of things to come when they were in
less haste, but she was totally unprepared for Ron's reaction – and so was
he. In her mind, Hermione had already
made some of the adjustment from friend to something more, but the realisation
had only just hit Ron in the last few minutes. As he kissed her, he felt a complete emotional surrender, an opening of
his mind and heart the like of which he had never even thought possible. His arms snaked firmly around her, pulling
her closer, deepening the kiss, and the rest of the world faded into
insignificance.
**********************
"Ginny, are you in
here? Please come out. You know I'll find you eventually - you
can't avoid me forever, not in a place like Hogwarts." It was nearly midnight and Harry was still
doggedly searching for Ginny. She was
not in her dorm – Maryam had verified that – and she was certainly not in the
Gryffindor Common Room. There had been
some peculiar commotion going on in there the last time he had checked. Something about Ron and Hermione – he'd find
out tomorrow, it was essential that he find that elusive little girl before she
… He put his head in his hands. That
was most of the trouble really, wasn't it? She wasn't a little girl any more, nor could she be simply dismissed as
Ron's baby sister. Ginny Weasley was a
formidable sorceress in her own right – Harry had been deeply impressed by her
grasp of the arts, and by her sheer mental strength and willpower. The last thing he needed was to make an
enemy of a witch of her abilities – she had already been tricked into
Voldemort's clutches once, it made him tremble to think that he, Harry, could
possibly drive her into the dark one's arms simply by his own
thoughtlessness. But aside from the
logical question, Harry was having to face up to his own guilt at the way he
had treated her. It was true: he had
treated her like a child when she was desperately trying to be something more;
he had been unwilling to expand The Dream Team to include her, even
occasionally; he had failed to spot the changes in her feelings for him; and he
had acted with a cavalier disregard for her dignity and self-esteem. He had also bested her in a duel of sorcery,
not by magical means, but by a trick learned in a first-year Hogwarts dormitory
fight. At that moment, Harry felt lower
than a slug.
***************************
The first thing that
penetrated Hermione's stupefied senses was a vague impression of shouting. It seemed very far away, but was getting
closer by the instant. Taking a firmer
grip on Ron's shoulders, she opened her eyes slightly, then as wide as they
could be as she registered a whole room full of cheering Gryffindors. Abruptly, she broke away from Ron (who was
all set to continue with round two) and faced the cheers, blushing and smiling,
midway between embarrassment and bliss. Ron had gone redder than his hair, but stubbornly refused to release the
arm he held around Hermione's shoulders. For a good 15 minutes, they were feted and teased, and an impromptu
party sprang up to celebrate. No one
even considered doing any homework, Seamus and Dean put their heads together
and produced a music charm which kept the Gryffindors dancing well into the
night, and Parvati managed to conjure some really quite acceptable punch. Taking a breather in a quiet corner some time
later, Ron was holding Hermione's hand and gazing dreamily into her eyes when a
thought occurred to him.
"'Mione, it's a bit of
an academic question now, but if you aren't and never were involved with Harry,
why were you holding his hand his afternoon?" Hermione blinked as if waking up from a trance.
"Harry's hand, this
afternoon? Oh, yes." A slight frown chased its way across her face to be
quickly supplanted by a secretive little smile. "Oh, yes, Ron: he was very
worried – about his performance at Quidditch, you know. He feels he's reached a plateau, and was
wondering how to progress further." Ron
gave a snort of derision.
"That's the trouble
with Harry," He replied, "Hasn't grown up yet. You know, I don't believe he's ever even looked at a girl except to
judge her Quidditch abilities."
"You're forgetting Cho
Chang." Hermione reminded him. Ron
looked around the Common Room.
"Where is Harry
anyway?" She smiled and patted his
cheek in order to bring his attention back to herself – something she had very
little difficulty doing at present.
"Oh, he said he had to
look for something." She replied, getting up to dance again, "Or someone." She
added quietly, almost to herself.
****************************
Finally at 2.00am,
Harry gave up the quest for Ginny Weasley and retraced his steps wearily back
to Gryffindor Tower. It was only by
virtue of the invisibility cloak that he had been able to continue searching
for so long. However, he had now run
out of places to look, and Maryam had at last gone to get some sleep, still
worried to death about Ginny's empty bed. Swaying with fatigue, Harry climbed the stairs towards his dormitory,
stopping off at the Common Room in the hope of finding the warm embers of a
fire. He was in luck: someone must have
been working late, because the ashes in the hearth were still red. He approached eagerly, hungry for warmth,
and had just knelt on the hearthrug to conjure the embers back into a blaze,
when he became aware that he was not alone. Turning swiftly, he observed a figure curled up in one of the armchairs. This person must have been sleeping and had
been disturbed by Harry's entrance to the Common Room, for they stirred,
straightened stiff limbs, opened their eyes – and gasped in horror at the sight
of him. Harry recognised both the gasp
and the body language. His arm shot
out, grabbed and held whatever came into range, causing her to stumble and fall
back into the armchair. He then swiftly
half-sat, half-knelt on her ankles, effectively immobilising her legs. Ginny quickly realised she was caught and ceased
struggling almost immediately.
"If I release you from
this very uncomfortable position," whispered Harry, "Will you promise on your
honour not to run away from me again? I've had a very tough time searching for you for the past four hours,
and I don't intend to lose you now." Ginny paused briefly, then nodded. Harry rose to his feet and extended a hand to her. Wonderingly, she took it and allowed herself
to be led over to a large sofa at the other side of the fireplace. Harry sat her down, then took the seat next
to her.
"I can keep an eye on
you better like this," he explained, "And you'll find it more difficult to
slide away from me."
"Harry," she
interrupted, "We're both very tired. Can't we talk in the morning?"
"Are you kidding? I've
been looking for you all night. I'll be
damned if I'll sleep on it now." Ginny
trembled at his tone of voice.
"Look, Harry, I've
said I'm sorry for all those things I did to you, and the duel and
everything. Please, can't you just
leave me alone now?" He recognized that
she was really frightened of him, and he hated himself just a little more.
"Ginny," he began, "I
don't want another apology from you, quite the opposite, in fact. It's me who should be apologising to
you." Her eyes were wide with
astonishment, but he forestalled her protests by placing a finger lightly over
her lips.
"I really didn't
notice how much you had grown up." He began, remorsefully, "I just didn't want
anything to disturb my friendship with Ron, you know? I mean, Hermione didn't count – or at least, I thought she didn't
count. I seem to have been spectacularly wrong on that subject too. Anyway, I kept telling myself you had this
childish thing about me but it would fade with the years. It never occurred to me that perhaps it
might just grow stronger, and I also never dreamed of looking within myself, at
what I might feel, not for the little girl but for the young woman you had
become. Ginny," he turned his
disarmingly deep green gaze on her, "I would like to have the chance of getting
to know you better. If your feelings
for me have not been totally destroyed by my crass insensitivity, do you think
you could see your way to, well, taking me on as your - boyfriend, partner,
whatever it is we call ourselves?" Ginny's eyes had been getting wider and wider throughout this little
speech, now they were the size of dinner plates. She swallowed nervously, but didn't resist when Harry shyly took
both of her hands in his.
"Harry," she murmured,
"I can't believe … do you really mean it?"
"Yes." he said simply,
grasping her hands to his chest, then somewhat uncertainly, "Ginny, do you
still care for me?" She nodded
frantically, unable to speak. He let
out a deep sigh of relief and a dreamy look spread across his face as he gazed
at her in the firelight.
"Thank you, Ginny," he
breathed, "And please promise me that you won't take any more nonsense from me
in the future. I feel like three kinds
of a fool – I could have lost you!" The
look on his face was so comically worried that she laughed and, overcoming her
temporary paralysis, reached out timidly to brush the wayward black hair out of
his eyes. Her hand lingered on his
cheek.
"Harry." she
whispered, loving the sound of his name in her own voice. She shivered suddenly. Noticing this, Harry slid an arm round her
shoulders and, leaning back into the corner of the sofa, he pulled her gently
against his chest. He covered them both
with his cloak, kissed the top of her head as she snuggled happily, and closed
his eyes for once totally at peace with the world.
"Just a few minutes."
He murmured sleepily. It was impossible
to even contemplate moving away from the incredible sensation of Ginny's quiet
breath against his neck. And in that
limbo period between sleep and wakefulness, when the mind roams free of logic
and order, the vision in the scrying crystal surfaced in Harry's mind and he
smiled contentedly.
"Who knows?" a little
part of his brain commented, "It may have been a true vision after all."
"Wait and see."
replied most of Harry, as his consciousness finally relinquished control.
It was fortunate
indeed that Maryam had a very sleepless night, on account of her worry over
Ginny, otherwise who knows what trouble the new couple might have brought upon
themselves. The last thing Ginny could
remember was Harry folding her lovingly into his cloak and lying back on the
sofa by the Common Room fire, the next moment she was being urgently shaken
awake by her best friend.
"Ginny. Ginny!" Maryam's voice was an urgent whisper.
"You've got to wake up and get back to the dorm before anyone else sees
you! Harry, for goodness sake wake
up!" Ginny groaned, stretched and
started to sit up before she remembered where she was. She yawned, blinked then gave a startled
glance at Harry next to her, already stirring, and memory flooded back. She smiled dreamily and shyly, and leaned
over to brush that irritating lock of hair away from his face. His green eyes opened, misty with sleep, and
smiled when they focussed on her.
"Good morning." He
said quietly, his voice husky. He was
just reaching to enfold her in his arms again, when Maryam made her presence
known.
"For goodness sake!"
she hissed, exasperated, "You can get on with that later – preferably in
private, but for now, you have both got to get to your dorms! It's 7.00am – you know Professor McGonnagle
is an early riser. If she makes a
morning check on the Common Room, and that's not unusual, you're toast!" Reality descended upon them like a cold
rain. They struggled to their feet and,
in response to Maryam's almost hysterical urging, made their way quickly and
quietly to their respective dormitories. Harry only had time to briefly touch Ginny's hand in farewell.
"See you at
breakfast," he yawned, "In a couple of hours."
Amazingly, no-one woke
up when Harry crept into the dormitory he shared with three other boys. As Harry passed the end of his bed, Ron
snorted loudly and turned over causing the other boy to freeze into immobility,
but Ron was dreaming happily of Hermione and would not have chosen to wake up
for all the gold in Gringotts. Safely
in his pyjamas, Harry slid between ice-cold sheets, involuntarily wishing Ginny
was there to keep him warm. Blushing at
the thought, he lay quietly going over the events of the last 24 hours. Ginny was the one woman who could put up
with him and with his destiny, he realised. She was special, a one-off. Her
amazing strength and talent as a sorceress made it more or less imperative for
him to have her on his side rather than Voldemort's, but in addition to that,
he knew he wanted her for herself, now and in the years to come. Still, he reflected, he was only 16: there
was time enough to think of serious things once he had left Hogwarts. Until then, he and Ginny could enjoy their
time together in the protected environment of the wizarding school and let
their relationship grow as it might.
************************
It was a bleary-eyed
troop of Gryffindors who staggered their way down to breakfast the following
morning, all except for Ron and Hermione who, still in the grip of love's young
dream, descended the Tower stairs hand in hand, smiling blissfully at each
other. Their almost tangible happiness
was not even shaken by Draco Malfoy pretending to be sick into his
porridge. Harry, with even less sleep
to contend with, was very late in rising and sat with an oblivious Ron on one
side of him and a panicking Neville on the other side. Too late he realised with a groan that it
was Double Potions first thing – and he knew nothing of the topics to be covered.
"Hey, Ron." He began,
nudging his friend. When there was no
response, he kicked him rather too hard under the table.
"Ouch!" shouted Ron,
glaring at Harry, "What did you do that for?"
"I was trying to ask
you if you'd done the potions homework." Harry retorted in exasperation,
"What's wrong with the pair of you this morning anyway? I can hardly get a civil word out of
you." Hermione giggled and exchanged a
very old-fashioned look with Ron. Suddenly Harry caught on.
"Great Merlin, Ron,
you've not finally made a move, have you?" he exclaimed, a delighted grin
spreading across his face as Ron coloured with a mixture of pleasure and
embarrassment, "And about time too! Congratulations, you two – I couldn't be more pleased." He wrung Ron's hand and, to her great
surprise, kissed Hermione on the cheek.
"Hey, geroff!" growled
Ron in mock-menace, then pointed a finger at his friend.
"And by the way, where
were you last night that you didn't come to the party?"
"Party?" queried
Harry, puzzled. He had been so intent
upon his search last night that the existence of the party in Gryffindor Tower
had completely eluded him. Suddenly,
Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs and pointed towards the doorway.
"Hey," she said,
"Ginny's finally made breakfast – that must be the first time in ages." Her
brow creased in a frown. "She's looking pretty good, better than she has for
weeks. I wonder what's happened to
cheer her up." Ron shrugged, just as
much in the dark as his girlfriend. Hermione swivelled round.
"Do you know what's
got into her this morning, Harry? Harry?" But she was talking to empty air. As Ron and Hermione watched, Harry walked over to Ginny in the
doorway with a beaming smile on his face. As she caught sight of him, her eyes lit up and they exchanged a hesitant
greeting. Harry touched her arm
briefly, then put a hand under her elbow and steered her over to the Gryffindor
table. They sat together, not quite
touching, sharing their breakfast, totally oblivious to the stunned amazement
of their fellow Gryffindors, and the whispers and craned necks from the other
tables. Harry Potter and his arch
enemy, Ginny Weasley?? The genius and
his best friend's annoying little sister – surely not! As the tables began to empty and the
students wended their various ways towards their first lessons, Ron caught
Harry by the arm.
"I think you've got a
bit of explaining to do." He said in a low voice. Harry grinned.
"Don't you approve?"
he asked. Ron shook his head.
"Don't be silly!" he
responded, "I just don't recall having any warning that this was on the cards
at all." Harry shrugged, still unable
to wipe the smile off his mouth. He
slapped the other boy on the shoulder.
"You're my best
friend, Ron," he began, "Apart from Hermione and now Ginny, of course, but
there are some things that must remain personal between a man and a woman
…Oof!" He didn't get a chance to finish before Ron socked him playfully in the
stomach.
"Come on, you daft
git!" he said, "Let's get to potions before I slug you in the head. On second thoughts, that's by far the
softest and least useful part of you!"
"Why you –" Harry took
off after a sniggering Ron who had reached the doorway and was pounding towards
the stairway of Gryffindor Tower.
"No running in the
corridors!" shouted Cho Chang, now a Ravenclaw prefect, but she had a wide grin
on her face, having seen the little display in the dining room, and didn't have
the heart to follow it up.