Driven
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just own the plot and anybody you aren't familiar with.
Summary: Harry is an angst-ridden teenager that has been through many traumatizing events. His best friends are the world to him...but one of them is much more...H/HR,R/HR.
Acknowledgement: Ellen, the author, who showed that "sometimes there's no happily ever after, but there is happiness" with her story, "Hard Love". [Not like fantasy but more than just a game] [Gio & M]. Thanks.
Harry drank the potion with one, satisfied gulp. It tasted strangely of a bad mixture of oranges and oil. His skin began to crawl, but he was already used to this. His body rippled in slight pain as he closed his eyes. Within one or two motions, he looked down, and was amazed to see the transformation had taken place. He was Ron. Tall, and gangly, his shirt felt a bit more tighter, his pants were more looser, and when he looked in the mirror, he recieved the biggest shock of all: Ron's freckled face was staring back at him. Catching his breath, he put his school robes over him and reluctantly began walking downstairs.
***
5 hours later
Ron was washing the vials with the utmost intensity, glaring at Snape with loathing looks every so often. He hated Potions, but not as much as he hated Snape, and detention. His limbs were tired, aching with numbness.
"Is that all, Professor?" he asked hopefully.
Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. "It's only been twenty minutes, Mr. Weasley. Continue," he sneered, a smirk washing over his face.
Ron made a raw animal noise, and began muttering things under his breath as he cleaned.
"Professor Snape! Professor Snape!" somebody called. Ron turned around and saw a crying, blubbering second year in the doorway.
"What is it, Tiffany?" Professor Snape quickly asked.
"He did it again! Crabbe did it again! He broke it, Dad!"
"How many time do I have to tell you not to call me -" Professor Snape glanced at Ron, then glared at Tiffany. Ron was trying hard to develope this information in his mind.
"Weasley, you're finished, we'll continue tomorrow," he growled.
Ron smiled, and started to head toward the doorway. But not before he gave Tiffany a wink and a grin.
***
5 hours earlier
Harry walked downstairs, and was not surprised to see Hermione was still crying, his back to her.
"Hermione?" he whispered cautiously. "Hermione?" he said a bit more louder.
She turned her head, and promptly dried her eyes with the back of her hand. "Ron! What're you doing here? Don't you have detention?"
"Err...he let me off early," Harry said nervously.
"Oh."
"What's wrong?"
She managed a false laugh. "Oh, nothing."
Harry took a seat across from her in the armchair, looking at her expectantly.
"Look, Ron," she said, sniffling. "We need to talk."
"Yeah?"
"I don't think...I don't think it's going to work."
Harry could hear the words, but could not understand them correctly. "What?" he said, aghast.
"Look," Hermione croaked, pushing the strands of hair in the back of her ears, "I am so sorry...I just...you don't love me Ron. You never did."
"What? What're you talking about?" he asked. Harry wasn't quite sure what he was saying. This wasn't supposed to happen...he just wanted to comfort her. He didn't want to become Ron, he didn't want to be the one facing the problems...
"Don't you get it, Ron? I have never loved anybody as much as I loved you," she started to say. It caused Harry's throat to form a lump rising; that meant she never loved Harry the same she did as Ron.
"But all the fights we keep having...we were always friends, Ron, remember? We started out as friends. And then, things got so complicated; you asked me out, I accepted, because I thought you felt the same way. But you don't. We don't even kiss as much. You get annoyed by me. You don't like me at all."
Ron would know how to handle this, Harry thought. He squirmed uneasily seeing Hermione cry. Not knowing what he was doing, he headed to her armchair and wrapped himself around her, knowing it would do no good. But it felt good. Her skin against his, her lips against his neck, her tears staining the front of his robes...
He rubbed her back, feeling awkward. He had done the same with Cho once before, but this was different. This was Hermione, and Hermione wasn't just a "crush". She was much more. She lifted her head, looking at him, circles under her eyes.
"Hi," he whispered stupidly.
"Hi," she replied, restraining a smile. Before anything could stop him, he leaned forward and kissed her.
It was something he had never felt before; there was a feeling that scared him, the tingling sensation throughout his body, his body paralyzed, just like with Cho. But it was different, it was more sensual...she grabbed his back, and pressed her chest against his, and he made a small noise, and then remembered...Ron.
The way she was pulling at his hair, because she thought he was a different, more sympathetic Ron. The way she kissed him because she thought he was Ron. It was only because he was Ron...she had no idea who he really was. And now Harry was making the biggest mistake of his life. Kissing his best friend's girl. Kissing the same lips Ron had kissed...
He pulled away, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. She bit her lip, an unreadable look in her eyes.
"I knew it," she murmured. "You're repulsed by me...you're repulsed."
"No," he kept saying over and over. "No, I..."
"Explain it then," she said, her eyes twitching, tears welling. "Why did you let go, then? You've never kissed me like that, before, Ron...I bet you realized I was Hermione and let go."
"That's - that's awful and you know it," he stammered. You've never kissed me like that before, Ron, she had said. There was a pang in his chest, refusing to relent.
"It's the truth, and you know it," Hermione said furiously. She sprung up from the armchair, but Harry grabbed her by the arm, and she turned around, a gape twisted in her mouth. It was as if they could both feel the tingling, the feeling that was rising, crawling through their skin.
"Don't leave yet," he finally said. "Stay."
Hermione's eyes bore into his, and she finally headed toward the armchair, but he stopped her.
"Wait." He sat in the armchair and pulled Hermione over, and placed her on his lap, his hand on her hip, grazing it. He sighed, feeling complete contempt. She was looking frightened, but he placed the tip of her head on his chest, and she closed her eyes, shivering every so often.
***
Ron was walking toward the common room, when someone grabbed his robes.
"What the -" he yelled, but a voice said, "Petrificus Totalus!" and he went numb in the floor.
"Quick, the spell won't last forever. The sleeping potion! Hurry!" a familiar voice yelled, and there were footsteps. Ron's mouth was opened and a stingy substance was pulled into his mouth, and he savored the bittersweet taste.
Soon, darkness filled him.
***
Harry awoke a few hours later, with Hermione in his arms. He wanted to wake her, he wanted to feel her lips against his again, but knew it was impossible. He would back out as soon as possible; he would never be able to do that to Ron. Last night had been a mistake, a night of foolishness. With difficulty, he quietly emerged from the tangled Hermione in his warmth with regret, and walked up the stairs. It was about midnight, he assumed, and then a sudden thought struck him: Ron had sooner or later come in and seen them...
A feeling of dread overcame him, washing over his skin. You've gone through badder stuff this, he assured himself, walking up the stairs and opening the door to his dorms.
When he did, he saw Ron's bed was empty. Biting his lip, his head went over all the possibilities of what could've happened to him. Perhaps he was so jealous and angry that he went outside? Perhaps...
He put a hand through his hair, and then froze in realization. His hair didn't feel...messy. It felt slick...and lighter.
Hadn't the potion worn off yet?
He ran to the mirror, and to his horror, he saw Ron's face staring back at him.
***
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just own the plot and anybody you aren't familiar with.
Summary: Harry is an angst-ridden teenager that has been through many traumatizing events. His best friends are the world to him...but one of them is much more...H/HR,R/HR.
Acknowledgement: Ellen, the author, who showed that "sometimes there's no happily ever after, but there is happiness" with her story, "Hard Love". [Not like fantasy but more than just a game] [Gio & M]. Thanks.
Harry drank the potion with one, satisfied gulp. It tasted strangely of a bad mixture of oranges and oil. His skin began to crawl, but he was already used to this. His body rippled in slight pain as he closed his eyes. Within one or two motions, he looked down, and was amazed to see the transformation had taken place. He was Ron. Tall, and gangly, his shirt felt a bit more tighter, his pants were more looser, and when he looked in the mirror, he recieved the biggest shock of all: Ron's freckled face was staring back at him. Catching his breath, he put his school robes over him and reluctantly began walking downstairs.
***
5 hours later
Ron was washing the vials with the utmost intensity, glaring at Snape with loathing looks every so often. He hated Potions, but not as much as he hated Snape, and detention. His limbs were tired, aching with numbness.
"Is that all, Professor?" he asked hopefully.
Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. "It's only been twenty minutes, Mr. Weasley. Continue," he sneered, a smirk washing over his face.
Ron made a raw animal noise, and began muttering things under his breath as he cleaned.
"Professor Snape! Professor Snape!" somebody called. Ron turned around and saw a crying, blubbering second year in the doorway.
"What is it, Tiffany?" Professor Snape quickly asked.
"He did it again! Crabbe did it again! He broke it, Dad!"
"How many time do I have to tell you not to call me -" Professor Snape glanced at Ron, then glared at Tiffany. Ron was trying hard to develope this information in his mind.
"Weasley, you're finished, we'll continue tomorrow," he growled.
Ron smiled, and started to head toward the doorway. But not before he gave Tiffany a wink and a grin.
***
5 hours earlier
Harry walked downstairs, and was not surprised to see Hermione was still crying, his back to her.
"Hermione?" he whispered cautiously. "Hermione?" he said a bit more louder.
She turned her head, and promptly dried her eyes with the back of her hand. "Ron! What're you doing here? Don't you have detention?"
"Err...he let me off early," Harry said nervously.
"Oh."
"What's wrong?"
She managed a false laugh. "Oh, nothing."
Harry took a seat across from her in the armchair, looking at her expectantly.
"Look, Ron," she said, sniffling. "We need to talk."
"Yeah?"
"I don't think...I don't think it's going to work."
Harry could hear the words, but could not understand them correctly. "What?" he said, aghast.
"Look," Hermione croaked, pushing the strands of hair in the back of her ears, "I am so sorry...I just...you don't love me Ron. You never did."
"What? What're you talking about?" he asked. Harry wasn't quite sure what he was saying. This wasn't supposed to happen...he just wanted to comfort her. He didn't want to become Ron, he didn't want to be the one facing the problems...
"Don't you get it, Ron? I have never loved anybody as much as I loved you," she started to say. It caused Harry's throat to form a lump rising; that meant she never loved Harry the same she did as Ron.
"But all the fights we keep having...we were always friends, Ron, remember? We started out as friends. And then, things got so complicated; you asked me out, I accepted, because I thought you felt the same way. But you don't. We don't even kiss as much. You get annoyed by me. You don't like me at all."
Ron would know how to handle this, Harry thought. He squirmed uneasily seeing Hermione cry. Not knowing what he was doing, he headed to her armchair and wrapped himself around her, knowing it would do no good. But it felt good. Her skin against his, her lips against his neck, her tears staining the front of his robes...
He rubbed her back, feeling awkward. He had done the same with Cho once before, but this was different. This was Hermione, and Hermione wasn't just a "crush". She was much more. She lifted her head, looking at him, circles under her eyes.
"Hi," he whispered stupidly.
"Hi," she replied, restraining a smile. Before anything could stop him, he leaned forward and kissed her.
It was something he had never felt before; there was a feeling that scared him, the tingling sensation throughout his body, his body paralyzed, just like with Cho. But it was different, it was more sensual...she grabbed his back, and pressed her chest against his, and he made a small noise, and then remembered...Ron.
The way she was pulling at his hair, because she thought he was a different, more sympathetic Ron. The way she kissed him because she thought he was Ron. It was only because he was Ron...she had no idea who he really was. And now Harry was making the biggest mistake of his life. Kissing his best friend's girl. Kissing the same lips Ron had kissed...
He pulled away, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. She bit her lip, an unreadable look in her eyes.
"I knew it," she murmured. "You're repulsed by me...you're repulsed."
"No," he kept saying over and over. "No, I..."
"Explain it then," she said, her eyes twitching, tears welling. "Why did you let go, then? You've never kissed me like that, before, Ron...I bet you realized I was Hermione and let go."
"That's - that's awful and you know it," he stammered. You've never kissed me like that before, Ron, she had said. There was a pang in his chest, refusing to relent.
"It's the truth, and you know it," Hermione said furiously. She sprung up from the armchair, but Harry grabbed her by the arm, and she turned around, a gape twisted in her mouth. It was as if they could both feel the tingling, the feeling that was rising, crawling through their skin.
"Don't leave yet," he finally said. "Stay."
Hermione's eyes bore into his, and she finally headed toward the armchair, but he stopped her.
"Wait." He sat in the armchair and pulled Hermione over, and placed her on his lap, his hand on her hip, grazing it. He sighed, feeling complete contempt. She was looking frightened, but he placed the tip of her head on his chest, and she closed her eyes, shivering every so often.
***
Ron was walking toward the common room, when someone grabbed his robes.
"What the -" he yelled, but a voice said, "Petrificus Totalus!" and he went numb in the floor.
"Quick, the spell won't last forever. The sleeping potion! Hurry!" a familiar voice yelled, and there were footsteps. Ron's mouth was opened and a stingy substance was pulled into his mouth, and he savored the bittersweet taste.
Soon, darkness filled him.
***
Harry awoke a few hours later, with Hermione in his arms. He wanted to wake her, he wanted to feel her lips against his again, but knew it was impossible. He would back out as soon as possible; he would never be able to do that to Ron. Last night had been a mistake, a night of foolishness. With difficulty, he quietly emerged from the tangled Hermione in his warmth with regret, and walked up the stairs. It was about midnight, he assumed, and then a sudden thought struck him: Ron had sooner or later come in and seen them...
A feeling of dread overcame him, washing over his skin. You've gone through badder stuff this, he assured himself, walking up the stairs and opening the door to his dorms.
When he did, he saw Ron's bed was empty. Biting his lip, his head went over all the possibilities of what could've happened to him. Perhaps he was so jealous and angry that he went outside? Perhaps...
He put a hand through his hair, and then froze in realization. His hair didn't feel...messy. It felt slick...and lighter.
Hadn't the potion worn off yet?
He ran to the mirror, and to his horror, he saw Ron's face staring back at him.
***