Disclaimer: The character's are J.K Rowlings, did ya know that?
A/N: I know this thing strongly resembles a soap opera, but rememer this words of the Bard while you're reading this:
The course of true love never did run smooth.
"We need to talk" Harry whispered as we walked through the halls the next day, on our way to Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"I agree. When?? I replied. I glanced at Ron, as it seemed strange to be talking like this with him right next to us, but he was staring ahead in a blank, dreamy way. Probably thinking about Fleur.
"Can you meet me at the pitch at the end of Quidditch practice tonight?" he asked.
"I nodded, and the conversation was over. We entered the classroom, and hardly exchanged a word until that night.
That night, at 8:30pm, I made my way to the Quidditch pitch with apprehension. I had left the Gryffindor common room half an hour earlier, telling Ron that I was going to the library to look something up, and had even gone there and done it for good measure. But I left quickly when I saw it was twenty-five minutes passed the hour, telling myself it was stupid to have thought Ron would ask me about it when I got back, anyway.
I was so worried. Obviously Harry and I would talk about what had happened the previous night, but what I wanted to know was, what happened next? I didn't feel like I knew my own heart. Did I want to attempt dating Harry? Or did I prefer 'flirty Harry'? And how the heck did he feel now? It had felt real the night before, but how could I use one moment to determine someone's feeling, or even my own? I felt like my head was going to explode as I sat down on the stands next to the change room. I had passed the rest of the Gryffindor team on my way down, so I knew Harry was alone in there. Maybe I could just creep in? But what if he's in the shower? Well, that wouldn't be so bad…At that moment; Harry stumbled out of the door.
"Oof!"
I let out a little laugh.
"Suave!" I called out. He looked up and grinned at me, absolutely melting the remains of my heart that were not yet molten. He came and sat next to me.
"Hello" he said in a very polite, British way.
"Hello yourself" I replied.
"So, yeah, talking…" he started, but drifted off, blushing red. I found I couldn't think of what to say, either. There was an awkward silence, which I hate.
"What's going on between us, Hermione?" he blurted out. Unbeknownst to me, I started fidgeting.
"I dunno. That was a pretty, uh, intense dance last night" I muttered, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"Well, how do you feel about me" he asked, eyes narrowing. I started squirming in my seat, unable to feel comfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.
"Don't ask me that yet, Harry…"
"You must have some idea! Do you love me?"
What?
"No! I mean, ugh, I'm attracted to you, but it's a bit early for love don't you think?
"Yeah…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that…" He slapped his forehead.
"Well, how do you feel about me, Harry?" I asked. This is what I was there for.
"I like you…you're beautiful! And you're…Hermione! I dunno".
"Do you want to date me?"
"What about Ron?" he asked.
"What about Ron?" I repeated. What did Ron have to do with this?
"Well, he's our best friend and…haven't you ever noticed the way he looks at you?" he demanded.
"Erm…no…what do you mean?"
"He's in love with you! Are you willing to hurt him, Hermione?"
The fidgeting went to my feet; I couldn't stop playing with them.
"Of course not! But…I want you. Not him. Anyway, he's obviously not very devoted to me, you should've seen him with Fleur last night!"
"He was probably down after you ditched him post bitch-fight with Cho!" he shouted.
"Hey, you're the one that sent him to dance with Fleur!" I shot back.
"It doesn't matter. Fleur…I don't think fleur means anything to him…It's all you".
"Whatever, I didn't come here to talk about Ron", I said shortly.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I care about him".
"I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Maybe we shouldn't do this then. Why don't you date him?" This was getting out of hand. Stupid pride. And stupid bloody Ron!
Harry stood up.
"Maybe you're right. If you'll excuse me, I have to go and have and write up some Quidditch plays. Goodbye". He said "goodbye" so definitively that I scrambled to my feet and pushed past, running all the way up to the common room and collapsing on a couch. The few people in the room hardly noticed my, or my tears.
I sat on the couch for almost an hour, replaying the conversation in my head and regretting it more and more each time. Eventually my mind was spent. I dragged myself up off the couch, wandering over to the steps with my eyes downcast. As I paused at the bottom of the stairs, I felt two strong arms encircle my waist.
"Hi" a voice said in my ears. The voice was Harry's.
"I thought we agreed not to do this" I said in the coldest voice I could muster. Harry spun me around.
"What are you talking about? Anyway, I'm so sorry I missed out talk, I think a Bludger got out while I was packing up the Quidditch balls, I've been out cold on the changing room floor for the last two ours.
Suddenly, I felt very sick.
A/N Sorry it's been a week, had tragic writer's block (my Elbereth, madam-pyro and tarz will couch for that, I'm sorry I was whining so much ;) ). Anyway, sorry that chapter was about as subtle as a nuclear wahead. No I don't think you're stupid, I expect everyone knows what's going on here, what I want to do is explore the ramifications. Please review!