Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: An impulsive moment leads Harry to a situation he had hoped he'd never be in. After revealing his feelings, Harry is faced with the consequences. SLASH.

A/N: Constructive Criticism is appreciated. Flames are taken for what they're worth, meaningless drivel. This story will probably come in three parts, one told from each POV of the trio, but that may change. Please review.

* * * * *

"Harry?"

I look up from the dying fire startled. Hermione is standing in her nightgown one hand on my chair. "Harry, what are you doing up?"

"Nothing," I say, hoping she will just leave me alone. Hoping that she won't ask me what's wrong.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I repeat turning back towards the fire and squeezing my eyes shut. For the first time in my life I curse having a friend that knows me so well. She seems to hesitate a moment before taking a deep breath and coming to stand between me and the fire.

I open my eyes as she kneels down in front of me. I wish I was able to appreciate her figure. I do appreciate it, in a perfectly aesthetic manner, but not in the way that would get me out of this mess. Not in the way that would make everything okay.

She looks up at me her chocolate brown eyes searching out mine.

"You know you can tell me anything," she says very quietly.

I nod, though I know I can't. I've only told one person everything and he's not talking to me anymore. He may never talk to me again.

To my surprise she doesn't say anything more but leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. She stands up gives me a worried look and quietly walks away back towards the stairs.

"Goodnight," I whisper into the darkness, but it's so low that I'm sure she can't hear it.

I make my way up the stairs to my dorm feeling numb. I open the door quietly and hear Neville's loud, yet oddly comforting snores. I feel my chest tighten when I see that Ron has pulled the curtains closed around his bed. I know he's not asleep. He doesn't really snore, he just breaths really deeply. It's this wonderful rhythmic sound that always soothes me. Whenever I can't sleep I always search out his breathing and trying to get in sync with it. In, out, in, out. It always makes me fall asleep.

Only silence comes from his closed curtains.

I change into my pajamas and climb into my own bed. Pulling the curtains closed. I never wanted things to happen this way. Never.

* * * * *

The next morning I find he's already gone when I wake up. I get dressed and make my way downstairs. I stop abruptly on the second step from the bottom when I see him talking quietly with Hermione. She's frowning and clutching her books to her chest. I wonder if he's told her what I've done. I wonder if she will feel differently towards me as well.

How could I have been so stupid?

"All right, Harry?" says a bright eyed Colin very loudly.

"Fine," I lie, feeling like I'm going to throw up as my two best friends look up at me. Ron whispers something to Hermione and hurries out the portrait hole. I make my way over to Hermione.

"Morning," I say softly, avoiding her eyes.

"Morning, Harry," she says.

There is an awkward pause and I can feel her eyes burning into me.

"Is it true?" she asks in a low voice so only I can hear, "Did you kiss him?"

Leave it to Hermione to get directly to the point. I swallow and look up at her. I'm surprised to see hurt mixed with confusion in her face.

"Yes," I say feeling my cheeks growing warm. "I didn't mean to, it just happened."

She stares at me for a moment and then blinks. "Why?"

I shrug not knowing how to explain it. Not really knowing myself when my feelings for Ron had begun to change. Perhaps they had never changed. Perhaps I had felt this way towards him since the beginning of our friendship and was too young to realize what it was.

I know my answer isn't good enough, but Hermione says nothing as she turns and walks toward the portrait hole. I follow her not knowing what else to do. We walk side by side silently down the hall.

"What did he tell you?" I ask finally as we are about to enter the Great Hall.

She turns and looks at me, then at the students around us. She takes my hand and leads me to a deserted closet. After she's shut the door and has cast a soundproof spell she looks at me again. I can't put my finger on it but there is something tragic about the way that she looks.

"He said you two were doing your divination homework last night and that you kissed him."

"That's it?" I asked feeling my heart speeding up.

She bites her lip, "Yes."

I nod.

"Harry..." she starts, and then seems to hesitate.

"Go on," I say, knowing somewhat what she's going to say.

"He's confused. He doesn't know why you did what you did. I don't know why."

"I love him," I say, instantly feeling the impact of my own words. I've never said it out loud before.

Hermione inhales sharply, "You love him?"

"Yes," I whisper, never being more sure of anything in my life.

"Not in the way you love me," she says her eyes glinting with tears.

"No, in a different way," I say, suddenly realizing why she's crying.

She nods and goes to open the door, but I stop her.

"Do you hate me?"

She looks up quickly, "Oh Harry, I could never hate you."

"Does he?"

"He could never hate you either," she whispers. Then she wraps her arms around me hugging me tightly. I squeeze back, grateful that I still have her friendship.

She pulls away, tears streaming down her face. She wipes away at them impatiently, almost as if she's irritated to have shown so much emotion.

"Things aren't going to go back to normal, are they?"

She shakes her head. "No, they're not."

I nod and open the door for her. She steps out into the hall and waits for me. We make our way to the Great Hall and eat silently surrounded by the cheerful talk of our fellow Gryffindors. I'm disappointed that he's not at breakfast, but deep down I know he won't talk to me unless he's ready.

If he's ever ready.