A/N: Okay, I know this was super delayed....but it wasn't my fault!
Fanfiction.net has been acting real crazy for me over the past month or
so...like, it would let me upload the chapter, but then suddenly it would
completely disappear from the site. I'm really glad it finally worked this
time, and don't worry about chapter 16, because I'm almost finished with
that. Yay! Let's read chapter 15!
Ginny struggled to open her unusually heavy eyelids, and noticed, as she awoke from her unnatural slumber, a cold, numb feeling on the left side of her face. She moaned a little as she came into a state of complete consciousness, and discerned a dark figure leaning against the wall next to her, indifferently reading a small novel. He made eye contact with her when he felt her stir against the ice pack he was holding to her bruised temple.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, dropping the book on the bed and devoting his full attention to the slender girl lying prone next to him.
"What'th with my fathe? It feelth all numb and cold- wait a minute, am I lithping? What did you put on my fathe?" She placed an anxious hand to her cheek and felt, under Harry's large warm hand, a small frozen package."
"It's called an ice pack," he explained, "It helps numb things so you don't feel pain."
"Oh," silently mouthed Ginny. After a few seconds of quiet, slightly awkward stillness, they both spoke at the same exact moment:
"So are you-"
"Why ith it that-"
The two chuckled and urged the other to continue their sentences. Finally, Ginny was chosen to re-start the conversation.
"Well...I wath jutht about to athk...Why ith it that you're caring about me all of a thudden?"
Harry seemed rather taken aback by this question; after several moments of introspective thought, he answered, "Well...erm...I really don't know...why, was I ignoring you earlier or something?"
"Actually," slurred Ginny, half of her face still feeling like a numb puffy marshmallow, "The patht few yearth I wath jutht Ron'th little thithter, y'know, like not much to really pay attention to...but during the patht few weekth of you thtaying with my family, you've really treated me like your friend and not jutht thome thtupid little girl."
The bashful boy tilted his head a bit to the side and looked down at her from his sitting position. "Of course I've treated you like my friend, you ARE my friend!" Ginny giggled and blushed at this. "But anyway," continued Harry, growing more serious, "I didn't like the way Ron treated you just then. Does he hit you often?"
Suddenly an excellent, however evil, idea raced into Ginny's head and began to bounce energetically off the sides of her skull. She could lie and say that Ron frequently abused her, which would not only drive him and Harry apart, making it more plausible that Harry wouldn't feel so bad about ditching Ron to date his sister, but it would also form a connection between her and her heart's desire; if Harry knew that somebody else was being beaten just like he was, he would defend them with all of his soul, not to mention confide in them. "I can't thay," lied Ginny, forcing crocodile tears up to her eyes as if it was paining her to think of the subject.
Immediately Harry's interest was piqued, and his expression transformed into one of concern. "Oh, Ginny," he cooed, almost a whimper, "Please tell me you haven't been treated badly at home."
Ginny rolled over so that she lay face down on the bed, and was actually able to force herself to sob. "I'm thorry," she wailed, "But I can't tell you that."
"I simply can't believe it. I've known your family for years, and they haven't shown the smallest bit of anything but love and kindness. I mean, Ron was torn apart second year when we overheard that you were kidnapped by Vold- I mean, Tom Riddle. Are you sure? Are you really really not making this up?"
A pinch of doubt sprinkled itself atop Ginny's master plan, and began to eat away at it. She started to feel somewhat guilty for making her family seem like bad people, when they were really the best relatives she could ever dream of. "It ithn't my family, perthay...it'th jutht that Ron'th been being really cruel and violent towardth me, and it hurtth, it really doeth." 'There,' thought Ginny, 'Tone down the severity of the lie just a bit so it sounds more believable.'
"Ohh," sighed Harry, "Yeah, he's a bit of a violent bloke, I know that...he and Hermione throw books at each other and what-not, and he DID tear apart that little Krum figurine..." He looked back down at Ginny, who was still lying face-down on the bed, and stroked his hand up and down her back. "I'll talk to him for you."
"Kay," pathetically agreed the aching victim.
Harry's sympathy was touched, but seeing as he was never treated nicely enough to know how to express his softer side, he reverted back to a less emotional subject.
"Hey, don't roll over like that 'cos I can't hold the ice pack to your head."
Ginny didn't shift so that she faced Harry- rather, she placed her feet on the floor without looking up, stood quickly, and strode towards the door. Harry hastily scrambled off the bed and followed her, touching her arm so that she turned to make eye contact with him.
"What's wrong?"
She sighed angrily. "Nothing ever workth with you. Whatever, Harry. I give up!" she cried, throwing her arms in the air and storming down the hall. Completely oblivious to the point Ginny was trying to make, Harry hurried to catch up with her. Just as he was about to reach her, she quickly darted into a hallway washroom and slammed the door shut after herself. Her pursuer stood restlessly outside the locked facility, feeling rather confused and a bit guilty about whatever he'd done to her.
"What do you mean, you give up?" he asked the white-painted wood.
A hollow-sounding female voice responded from the interior of the small tiled area. "I mean- it'th jutht...you don't get it, do you?"
Utterly bewildered, Harry furrowed his eyebrows and leaned against the doorframe. "What are you talking about?"
Suddenly the door flew open, and Harry fell forward without the solid maple to support him, landing on a pair of warm, soft lips that tasted faintly of cherry lip balm. Ginny grabbed both sides of his head and pressed his mouth against hers in a sense of wild urgency, as if all her frustration over the years had been building to this pinnacle of self- expression. Finally she released her lips from his, breathing heavily into his mouth as she regained her composure.
"Thorry," she said, letting go of him and stepping around his body so that she could leave the washroom, "That thimply had to be done." At that, she walked down the hall and turned a corner, disappearing from Harry's view.
Hermione was steeping her soiled bedsheets in the bathtub when somebody sprinted into the room and locked the door shut. She whirled around to see Harry standing behind her, his chest heaving and his eyes as wide as dinner plates.
"Guess what! Guess what JUST happened!" he whispered excitedly, kneeling next to her in front of the blanket-filled tub.
"What?" she asked, momentarily forgetting about the incriminating evidence floating in front of her.
He took a deep breath before answering. "Ginny kissed me."
Hermione gasped exaggeratedly and nearly fell into the bathtub. "No way. You're not serious!" She mirrored his alarm and fervor as he began to recount to her what had just occurred.
"Oh, I AM serious. Okay, we were in the room that Ron and I were supposed to sleep in last night, and she was still unconscious so I was holding an ice pack to her temple-"
"What?" interrupted Hermione, absentmindedly placing a dripping wet, soapy hand on Harry's knee, "Why was she unconscious?"
"Because- mate, your hand's wet and it's soaking through my pants."
She removed the offending hand.
"Because she freaked out when she discovered that Ron and I had sabotaged her hairbrush, so I guess she started hitting Ron and he punched her, which must've been hard enough on her temple to knock her out."
"That doesn't sound like Ron at all," said Hermione, "He loves his sister."
"I know...so many weird things have been happening this summer," agreed Harry, "But anyway, back to my story! Alright then, so I was sitting up and reading some random book I found in the tent's closet, and she was passed out lying next to me. Then she woke up, and we were talking and stuff, and she said something like, 'Dude Harry what's wrong with you,' and I was like 'Huh?', and she was all, 'Yeah,"
"Wait-," interjected Hermione, "I think you've been away from school for too long. Start over, and try using a proper storytelling tone. I can't listen to you when your grammar is horrid."
"Sorry," apologized Harry, "I've been watching too much American television. That's how they talk over there, you know."
Hermione motioned for him to continue.
"So she wakes up, and like I said, she was being rather cryptic with her responses. She kept saying things like, "I give up," and "You're hopeless."
"That's not very nice," said Hermione.
Harry nodded. "I know, not the usual shy polite little Ginny. So she gets up, and I follow her down the hall 'cos I'm just curious like that, but she goes into the W.C. and shuts the door. Then I asked her what she meant by those things she just said to me, and she just...she just opened the door and kissed me. Rather passionately too, I must say."
His listener stilled seemed incredulous, and once the tale was told, she stared deeply into the dirty bathwater and considered her own thoughts and opinions about the subject.
"Are you going to tell Ron, then?"
Harry snorted while slowly shaking his head. "Right. He'd go barmy."
"So...," started Hermione, narrowing her eyes, "What ARE you going to do about this?"
"I suppose...I suppose I should have a little chat with Ginny. I'm really not sure, like I said, this happened just nearly two minutes ago. Maybe I'll call her over for a spot of tea or something later this afternoon."
Hermione brushed the bubbles off of her hands, and leaned forward towards Harry, who was still kneeling next to her in front of the bathtub. "The real question is, did you enjoy the kiss?"
Harry gazed at the tile floor for several agonizingly long seconds before he looked up at Hermione, blushed, and offered an answer. "Well...sort of." Seeing Hermione's jaw drop open, he quickly added, "You can't expect me not to! I'm a fifteen year old bloke; of course I'm going to enjoy a kiss from a pretty girl like her."
"I know that you must have gotten some physical pleasure out of it," said Hermione, "Anybody would...what I really meant was: did you enjoy it in the sense that you care for her beyond the level of hormones, or are you still fancying Cho?"
She was astonished when a smile broke apart Harry's sharp features, and he shrugged innocently. "Maybe I like her." Hermione paled. "You don't understand," cried Harry indignantly, "She's SO nice to me! She's got such a pleasant personality, and she's quite underrated by the both of you- meaning you and Ron."
The two of them were silent for several seconds; Hermione was strangely pallid and subdued, while Harry waited intently for her opinion on the matter.
"It could never happen without destroying Ron."
"What?" asked Harry, flabbergasted by this strange response.
"Do you have any idea what the repercussions on Ron's psyche would be? Come now, Harry, if your very best friend in the entire world starting owling your sister instead of you, and began to visit your sister and spend time with her, how would that make you feel? Simply horrid. You'd feel rejected and worthless, and would be incredibly jealous of all the attention your sibling was getting from somebody who used to be completely devoted to you."
Harry dropped his gaze to the floor once more, and lost the color from his cheeks. "You're right," he whispered, "You're so incredibly right, as usual."
"I'm sorry," said Hermione, noticing how much her speech had affected her friend.
He was speechless for a few moments. "Why doesn't anything ever go my way, 'Mione? I mean really, the only thing that's brightened my day in the past eight months was that kiss from Ginny just now."
Hermione scooted closer to Harry, and held both of his hands while gazing intently into his eyes. "You're a beautiful boy, Harry, there's no doubt that you'll attract other girls during your lifetime." He hung his head, not wanting to listen to what his friend was telling him. "Come now...you can't think of any girls that you might go for?"
"I dunno," said Harry, "It's just that...I want somebody who I can be close with, you know? And not in a sleazy way; somebody who'll love me and take care of me."
His female counterpart felt like she was about to melt. She had just achieved the dream of every woman on Earth- she had just cajoled a male into admitting that he wanted a meaningful relationship. She knew exactly what to do next.
"Aw, I care about you," she said, squeezing the hands she was still holding onto and smiling bashfully.
"Yes, but you only think of me as a friend," said Harry, still blushing over the fact that he was speaking so candidly about his emotions.
"Are you sure?"
Harry snapped to attention- he did not expect something like that to come out of Hermione's mouth. He stared at her, stunned, like a child that had just seen a rabbit pulled out of a magician's hat. "You...have feelings for me?"
"Not only are you my best friend," said Hermione, "and a wonderful person, but you're a selfless hero who would give his last knut to a charity fund, and sacrifice himself for a stranger. How could I not develop some sort of admiration for you? Over the years, that admiration turned into, well, something akin to love. Sorry if I'm sounding like a book or something, but I don't think I can put it into plainer words."
The object of her affection loosened his grip on her hands, and entwined his fingers with hers. "Once again, there is a major problem."
"What?"
"Ron would kill himself. Literally."
"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, growing alarmed.
"You mean you haven't noticed? He's completely smitten with you. That's why he caused such a row last year when he found out that you were going to Yule Ball with Krum. And anyway, if we started a relationship and began to leave him out of our excursions and conversations, he'd feel left out and unwanted."
Hermione's heart sank. "Yeah, that's true...but could you just answer one question for me before we drop the subject?"
"Sure," said Harry, smiling politely.
"If..." For once, the great scholarly Hermione was utterly lost for words. "If Ron wasn't an issue, would you...would you have considered dating me?"
Harry grinned, and kissed her on the nose. "Yes."
His friend involuntarily giggled, but soon recognized her error and tried in vain to disguise it as a cough. "Okay," she said, still stifling a smile, "That's all I wanted to know. Thank you."
"Anytime," responded Harry with a laugh. That's when he noticed what was in the bathtub: billowing piles of bed sheets. His mind flashed back to the night before, when he and Ron had placed her hand in a bowl of warm water, hoping that she would pee in her bed. 'Poor Hermione, she must be humiliated,' he thought. 'Oh well, she'll never know it was us.' He was just glad that it was only Ron who set up the prank on Ginny- he could never forgive himself if he knew that he was indirectly responsible for her eventual punch-in-the-face. Promising himself not to bring up the question of why Hermione was washing her blankets, he stood up and feigned an excuse to leave.
"I should go talk to Ginny, then," he said, unlocking the door. "I'm so glad we had this little discussion."
"Me too," agreed Hermione, looking up at him from her position on the floor. "Good luck."
"Thanks," he said, leaving the bathroom. He gently closed the door behind himself, and hoped to God that he would be able to find Ginny before her Dad could notice her bruised temple and black eye.
A/N - I just want to thank "Vanyaria Darkshadow" (sp?) for leaving me so many awesome reviews...I mean seriously she leaves a comment for every single chapter, and that's just cool. It makes me want to continue the story. Thank you!
Ginny struggled to open her unusually heavy eyelids, and noticed, as she awoke from her unnatural slumber, a cold, numb feeling on the left side of her face. She moaned a little as she came into a state of complete consciousness, and discerned a dark figure leaning against the wall next to her, indifferently reading a small novel. He made eye contact with her when he felt her stir against the ice pack he was holding to her bruised temple.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, dropping the book on the bed and devoting his full attention to the slender girl lying prone next to him.
"What'th with my fathe? It feelth all numb and cold- wait a minute, am I lithping? What did you put on my fathe?" She placed an anxious hand to her cheek and felt, under Harry's large warm hand, a small frozen package."
"It's called an ice pack," he explained, "It helps numb things so you don't feel pain."
"Oh," silently mouthed Ginny. After a few seconds of quiet, slightly awkward stillness, they both spoke at the same exact moment:
"So are you-"
"Why ith it that-"
The two chuckled and urged the other to continue their sentences. Finally, Ginny was chosen to re-start the conversation.
"Well...I wath jutht about to athk...Why ith it that you're caring about me all of a thudden?"
Harry seemed rather taken aback by this question; after several moments of introspective thought, he answered, "Well...erm...I really don't know...why, was I ignoring you earlier or something?"
"Actually," slurred Ginny, half of her face still feeling like a numb puffy marshmallow, "The patht few yearth I wath jutht Ron'th little thithter, y'know, like not much to really pay attention to...but during the patht few weekth of you thtaying with my family, you've really treated me like your friend and not jutht thome thtupid little girl."
The bashful boy tilted his head a bit to the side and looked down at her from his sitting position. "Of course I've treated you like my friend, you ARE my friend!" Ginny giggled and blushed at this. "But anyway," continued Harry, growing more serious, "I didn't like the way Ron treated you just then. Does he hit you often?"
Suddenly an excellent, however evil, idea raced into Ginny's head and began to bounce energetically off the sides of her skull. She could lie and say that Ron frequently abused her, which would not only drive him and Harry apart, making it more plausible that Harry wouldn't feel so bad about ditching Ron to date his sister, but it would also form a connection between her and her heart's desire; if Harry knew that somebody else was being beaten just like he was, he would defend them with all of his soul, not to mention confide in them. "I can't thay," lied Ginny, forcing crocodile tears up to her eyes as if it was paining her to think of the subject.
Immediately Harry's interest was piqued, and his expression transformed into one of concern. "Oh, Ginny," he cooed, almost a whimper, "Please tell me you haven't been treated badly at home."
Ginny rolled over so that she lay face down on the bed, and was actually able to force herself to sob. "I'm thorry," she wailed, "But I can't tell you that."
"I simply can't believe it. I've known your family for years, and they haven't shown the smallest bit of anything but love and kindness. I mean, Ron was torn apart second year when we overheard that you were kidnapped by Vold- I mean, Tom Riddle. Are you sure? Are you really really not making this up?"
A pinch of doubt sprinkled itself atop Ginny's master plan, and began to eat away at it. She started to feel somewhat guilty for making her family seem like bad people, when they were really the best relatives she could ever dream of. "It ithn't my family, perthay...it'th jutht that Ron'th been being really cruel and violent towardth me, and it hurtth, it really doeth." 'There,' thought Ginny, 'Tone down the severity of the lie just a bit so it sounds more believable.'
"Ohh," sighed Harry, "Yeah, he's a bit of a violent bloke, I know that...he and Hermione throw books at each other and what-not, and he DID tear apart that little Krum figurine..." He looked back down at Ginny, who was still lying face-down on the bed, and stroked his hand up and down her back. "I'll talk to him for you."
"Kay," pathetically agreed the aching victim.
Harry's sympathy was touched, but seeing as he was never treated nicely enough to know how to express his softer side, he reverted back to a less emotional subject.
"Hey, don't roll over like that 'cos I can't hold the ice pack to your head."
Ginny didn't shift so that she faced Harry- rather, she placed her feet on the floor without looking up, stood quickly, and strode towards the door. Harry hastily scrambled off the bed and followed her, touching her arm so that she turned to make eye contact with him.
"What's wrong?"
She sighed angrily. "Nothing ever workth with you. Whatever, Harry. I give up!" she cried, throwing her arms in the air and storming down the hall. Completely oblivious to the point Ginny was trying to make, Harry hurried to catch up with her. Just as he was about to reach her, she quickly darted into a hallway washroom and slammed the door shut after herself. Her pursuer stood restlessly outside the locked facility, feeling rather confused and a bit guilty about whatever he'd done to her.
"What do you mean, you give up?" he asked the white-painted wood.
A hollow-sounding female voice responded from the interior of the small tiled area. "I mean- it'th jutht...you don't get it, do you?"
Utterly bewildered, Harry furrowed his eyebrows and leaned against the doorframe. "What are you talking about?"
Suddenly the door flew open, and Harry fell forward without the solid maple to support him, landing on a pair of warm, soft lips that tasted faintly of cherry lip balm. Ginny grabbed both sides of his head and pressed his mouth against hers in a sense of wild urgency, as if all her frustration over the years had been building to this pinnacle of self- expression. Finally she released her lips from his, breathing heavily into his mouth as she regained her composure.
"Thorry," she said, letting go of him and stepping around his body so that she could leave the washroom, "That thimply had to be done." At that, she walked down the hall and turned a corner, disappearing from Harry's view.
Hermione was steeping her soiled bedsheets in the bathtub when somebody sprinted into the room and locked the door shut. She whirled around to see Harry standing behind her, his chest heaving and his eyes as wide as dinner plates.
"Guess what! Guess what JUST happened!" he whispered excitedly, kneeling next to her in front of the blanket-filled tub.
"What?" she asked, momentarily forgetting about the incriminating evidence floating in front of her.
He took a deep breath before answering. "Ginny kissed me."
Hermione gasped exaggeratedly and nearly fell into the bathtub. "No way. You're not serious!" She mirrored his alarm and fervor as he began to recount to her what had just occurred.
"Oh, I AM serious. Okay, we were in the room that Ron and I were supposed to sleep in last night, and she was still unconscious so I was holding an ice pack to her temple-"
"What?" interrupted Hermione, absentmindedly placing a dripping wet, soapy hand on Harry's knee, "Why was she unconscious?"
"Because- mate, your hand's wet and it's soaking through my pants."
She removed the offending hand.
"Because she freaked out when she discovered that Ron and I had sabotaged her hairbrush, so I guess she started hitting Ron and he punched her, which must've been hard enough on her temple to knock her out."
"That doesn't sound like Ron at all," said Hermione, "He loves his sister."
"I know...so many weird things have been happening this summer," agreed Harry, "But anyway, back to my story! Alright then, so I was sitting up and reading some random book I found in the tent's closet, and she was passed out lying next to me. Then she woke up, and we were talking and stuff, and she said something like, 'Dude Harry what's wrong with you,' and I was like 'Huh?', and she was all, 'Yeah,"
"Wait-," interjected Hermione, "I think you've been away from school for too long. Start over, and try using a proper storytelling tone. I can't listen to you when your grammar is horrid."
"Sorry," apologized Harry, "I've been watching too much American television. That's how they talk over there, you know."
Hermione motioned for him to continue.
"So she wakes up, and like I said, she was being rather cryptic with her responses. She kept saying things like, "I give up," and "You're hopeless."
"That's not very nice," said Hermione.
Harry nodded. "I know, not the usual shy polite little Ginny. So she gets up, and I follow her down the hall 'cos I'm just curious like that, but she goes into the W.C. and shuts the door. Then I asked her what she meant by those things she just said to me, and she just...she just opened the door and kissed me. Rather passionately too, I must say."
His listener stilled seemed incredulous, and once the tale was told, she stared deeply into the dirty bathwater and considered her own thoughts and opinions about the subject.
"Are you going to tell Ron, then?"
Harry snorted while slowly shaking his head. "Right. He'd go barmy."
"So...," started Hermione, narrowing her eyes, "What ARE you going to do about this?"
"I suppose...I suppose I should have a little chat with Ginny. I'm really not sure, like I said, this happened just nearly two minutes ago. Maybe I'll call her over for a spot of tea or something later this afternoon."
Hermione brushed the bubbles off of her hands, and leaned forward towards Harry, who was still kneeling next to her in front of the bathtub. "The real question is, did you enjoy the kiss?"
Harry gazed at the tile floor for several agonizingly long seconds before he looked up at Hermione, blushed, and offered an answer. "Well...sort of." Seeing Hermione's jaw drop open, he quickly added, "You can't expect me not to! I'm a fifteen year old bloke; of course I'm going to enjoy a kiss from a pretty girl like her."
"I know that you must have gotten some physical pleasure out of it," said Hermione, "Anybody would...what I really meant was: did you enjoy it in the sense that you care for her beyond the level of hormones, or are you still fancying Cho?"
She was astonished when a smile broke apart Harry's sharp features, and he shrugged innocently. "Maybe I like her." Hermione paled. "You don't understand," cried Harry indignantly, "She's SO nice to me! She's got such a pleasant personality, and she's quite underrated by the both of you- meaning you and Ron."
The two of them were silent for several seconds; Hermione was strangely pallid and subdued, while Harry waited intently for her opinion on the matter.
"It could never happen without destroying Ron."
"What?" asked Harry, flabbergasted by this strange response.
"Do you have any idea what the repercussions on Ron's psyche would be? Come now, Harry, if your very best friend in the entire world starting owling your sister instead of you, and began to visit your sister and spend time with her, how would that make you feel? Simply horrid. You'd feel rejected and worthless, and would be incredibly jealous of all the attention your sibling was getting from somebody who used to be completely devoted to you."
Harry dropped his gaze to the floor once more, and lost the color from his cheeks. "You're right," he whispered, "You're so incredibly right, as usual."
"I'm sorry," said Hermione, noticing how much her speech had affected her friend.
He was speechless for a few moments. "Why doesn't anything ever go my way, 'Mione? I mean really, the only thing that's brightened my day in the past eight months was that kiss from Ginny just now."
Hermione scooted closer to Harry, and held both of his hands while gazing intently into his eyes. "You're a beautiful boy, Harry, there's no doubt that you'll attract other girls during your lifetime." He hung his head, not wanting to listen to what his friend was telling him. "Come now...you can't think of any girls that you might go for?"
"I dunno," said Harry, "It's just that...I want somebody who I can be close with, you know? And not in a sleazy way; somebody who'll love me and take care of me."
His female counterpart felt like she was about to melt. She had just achieved the dream of every woman on Earth- she had just cajoled a male into admitting that he wanted a meaningful relationship. She knew exactly what to do next.
"Aw, I care about you," she said, squeezing the hands she was still holding onto and smiling bashfully.
"Yes, but you only think of me as a friend," said Harry, still blushing over the fact that he was speaking so candidly about his emotions.
"Are you sure?"
Harry snapped to attention- he did not expect something like that to come out of Hermione's mouth. He stared at her, stunned, like a child that had just seen a rabbit pulled out of a magician's hat. "You...have feelings for me?"
"Not only are you my best friend," said Hermione, "and a wonderful person, but you're a selfless hero who would give his last knut to a charity fund, and sacrifice himself for a stranger. How could I not develop some sort of admiration for you? Over the years, that admiration turned into, well, something akin to love. Sorry if I'm sounding like a book or something, but I don't think I can put it into plainer words."
The object of her affection loosened his grip on her hands, and entwined his fingers with hers. "Once again, there is a major problem."
"What?"
"Ron would kill himself. Literally."
"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, growing alarmed.
"You mean you haven't noticed? He's completely smitten with you. That's why he caused such a row last year when he found out that you were going to Yule Ball with Krum. And anyway, if we started a relationship and began to leave him out of our excursions and conversations, he'd feel left out and unwanted."
Hermione's heart sank. "Yeah, that's true...but could you just answer one question for me before we drop the subject?"
"Sure," said Harry, smiling politely.
"If..." For once, the great scholarly Hermione was utterly lost for words. "If Ron wasn't an issue, would you...would you have considered dating me?"
Harry grinned, and kissed her on the nose. "Yes."
His friend involuntarily giggled, but soon recognized her error and tried in vain to disguise it as a cough. "Okay," she said, still stifling a smile, "That's all I wanted to know. Thank you."
"Anytime," responded Harry with a laugh. That's when he noticed what was in the bathtub: billowing piles of bed sheets. His mind flashed back to the night before, when he and Ron had placed her hand in a bowl of warm water, hoping that she would pee in her bed. 'Poor Hermione, she must be humiliated,' he thought. 'Oh well, she'll never know it was us.' He was just glad that it was only Ron who set up the prank on Ginny- he could never forgive himself if he knew that he was indirectly responsible for her eventual punch-in-the-face. Promising himself not to bring up the question of why Hermione was washing her blankets, he stood up and feigned an excuse to leave.
"I should go talk to Ginny, then," he said, unlocking the door. "I'm so glad we had this little discussion."
"Me too," agreed Hermione, looking up at him from her position on the floor. "Good luck."
"Thanks," he said, leaving the bathroom. He gently closed the door behind himself, and hoped to God that he would be able to find Ginny before her Dad could notice her bruised temple and black eye.
A/N - I just want to thank "Vanyaria Darkshadow" (sp?) for leaving me so many awesome reviews...I mean seriously she leaves a comment for every single chapter, and that's just cool. It makes me want to continue the story. Thank you!