Magnanimous Chapter 14 – Confessing

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, objects and places are owned by J.K.Rowling.

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A/N: This week's chapter is extra-long, because there were too many things that needed to fit into it. Although, as one of my betas said sarcastically, 'Yes, because everyone will really mind reading more of your writing.' Its approximately a three-page excess, so sit back and enjoy.

As for finishing… This is not the final chapter, there's at least one more to come. Fifteen will probably be the last… After Magnanimous, I'm going to do a lot of work on the book-length I mentioned before (Fallen) over Christmas, and I intend to begin posting that in very early January.

My waffling done, here's the chapter. Enjoy.

~*~

Hermione returned to the Gryffindor Common room, her hair still wet from the rain but her clothes dried with a spell, to find that Ron was waiting for her in their usual corner, folding and unfolding a piece of parchment as he stared moodily into space. Still wearing a vague, unconscious kind of smile, she made her way over to him and sat down.

'Hey, Ron,' she smiled. He returned the greeting tonelessly, which was followed by a short, tense silence to which Hermione was completely oblivious. Ron had expected nothing less; she'd been on a walk with him after all, and Hermione's distraction had a perfectly obvious explanation that turned his stomach when he thought of it.

He didn't dwell on this, but instead brought up the topic he'd been thinking of for the past half-hour, ever since he'd been told the news. 'Guess what? Harry's awake.'

Hermione's face lit up, beaming with happiness. 'Really? Oh, that's brilliant! I'm so glad, I was beginning to worry… he is alright isn't he? Nothing wrong with him?'

'Nothing anyone's told me about. He's staying in a bit longer, observation… we should be able to visit soon, once more people get let out.'

The mention of visiting brought a strange twist to his stomach. He had to bring it up; after all, Hermione was still friends with Harry, and he with her. But still… Seeing Harry again, after what had happened, wasn't something Ron wanted to do. It would be incredibly awkward at best. At worst… Ron didn't want to think about at worst.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked overjoyed at the prospect of visiting Harry and didn't seem to have noticed Ron's ashen, blank look or his neutral tone. Her eyes were twinkling with happiness, and her smile stretching wide, 'Really? How soon? We have to visit as soon as we can. I was… really, really scared. In the dungeon, when I thought one of you was going to die…' She trailed off, momentarily sad, but brightened up again. 'But you didn't. So its pointless thinking about it, isn't it?'

Ron made a non-committal noise in his throat, and fidgeted nervously. 'Yeah, I'm glad we're both alive as well,' he said, needlessly. 'But… would you mind if I… didn't come with you to see Harry?'

She frowned and her mood seemed to sharpen.  She stared inquisitively at him. 'Why not?'

'Because… well, because…' The temptation to tell her what had happened rose again, but he pushed it away. Harry could tell her, if he wanted her to know… He'd told her that the argument over whether they should go or not, over what he'd said about Sirius, had carried on over their journey. But that wasn't enough reason not to want to see your friend after he'd nearly died… Wasn't it?

'Just… it was really uncomfortable, after that argument we had, and I know he's still sore about it… It would just be awkward,' Ron finished lamely, avoiding Hermione's probing stare.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'Ron, Harry's been your friend for over five years. And you're trying to tell me you don't want to go and visit him after he nearly died because you had an argument over Sirius and you'd feel awkward?'

'Well, it would be awkward…'

'Awkward or not, you should go and see him anyway. It was days ago, you've managed to get through Voldemort's traps together, I should think you could manage a half-hour's visit,' she told him severely. 'Why are you trying to get out of it anyway? Surely you can't feel that bad over your argument… are you afraid that if you apologise he won't accept it? Because…'

'No, no, it's not that,' Ron cut in quickly, knowing as well as she did that, after Harry had taken a few days to cool down, he'd accept Ron's apology quite happily. 'It's… Can you just accept that it would be a really, really bad idea for me to see him now?'

'Something's wrong, isn't it?' Hermione asked, frowning as she realised. 'Something more than that argument…'

'No… alright, yes.' Ron finally admitted with a sigh as Hermione fixed him with her best glare.  He drew in a breath. 'But I'm not going to tell you.'

'Why not?' she asked incredulously. 'You know I'm…'

'Yes, yes, I know,' he interrupted hastily, his eyes fixed on his hands which where twining and untwining agitatedly as he spoke. 'But… Its Harry's to tell, really. Not mine. He's the one who… did the thing that caused this, and it's his decision to tell you or not. Can you… can you understand that?'

Hermione was silent for a moment, her expression worried, but finally she nodded. 'Yes,' she said at last, 'I think I understand what you mean. I'll… I'll ask him, then.'

They lapsed into silence; Ron fidgeting in his seat, Hermione staring into space with a troubled expression. At last, if only to break the silence, Ron brought up the other topic that had been plaguing him.

'I take it the meeting with Malfoy went well?'

Her eyes came back into focus at that; she smiled and gave him a mildly reproachful look. 'Draco, not Malfoy. And yes, it went well…'

'I assume I'll hear every gory detail from Lavender and Parvati tomorrow.' Ron made a face, and Hermione gave him a vexed glare.

'I'm not going to go gossiping around just because I have a boyfriend…'

Ron nearly gagged. 'Boyfriend?'

She blushed. 'Well, yes… it seems like the logical thing to do, now,' she added lightly.

Ron forced himself to refrain from commenting on how completely illogical a thing it seemed to be – Draco Malfoy's girlfriend! – but restrained himself. 'Well, that's… nice…' he managed to say eventually.

She laughed. 'You're trying not to throw up at the mere idea, aren't you?' Her voice wasn't angry; rather, it was gently teasing, and Ron felt suddenly as though he were a five-year-old, acting in some amusing way.

'I'm not,' he denied defensively. He swallowed, trying to assemble a more neutral expression on his features. 'It's a bit… unusual, but I really think you should do what you want to do…'

Hermione gave him a careful, scrutinising look. 'No, you're only saying that. You probably will mean it when you get used to the idea, though.' With her next sentence, her voice lost its amused tone, and she sighed. 'Wonder what Harry will say…'

Ron shrugged, tensing at the mere mention of his name. 'Haven't a clue, but tell him when he isn't near any sharp objects, or he may just decide that murdering Mal – Draco, then – is an acceptable answer to the problem.'

'I'll be lucky if that's all he wants to do,' she sighed. 'Harry hates Draco. A lot. And he doesn't have any clue what's been going on… doesn't even know that we were locked up together. It's going to be very sudden, very shocking and very hard for him to accept.'

Ron nodded his agreement, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, each thinking about Harry, although what they thought was not similar at all. Finally, Hermione spoke.

'I still have that Transfiguration essay to finish,' she mentioned. 'I'll do it now, and keep the evening free in case I can get in to see Harry…'

Ron nodded. 'Going to the library, I assume?'

'Of course. It's too loud here. I'll just go and get my things… you don't mind, do you?'

'No, not at all,' he replied, and with that Hermione got to her feet and headed in the direction of the girl's staircase. When she came down with her things, five minutes later, she had the same vague smile on her face as she had when she entered the common room. After a wide smile in Ron's direction, she headed for the portrait hole and left.

Ron sighed. At least one of them was happy…

~*~

'Draco! Give it back.'

'Give what back?'

'My inkpot. You know, the one that was sitting right in front of me a minute ago?'

'An inkpot? Hmm, I don't recall seeing an inkpot, Hermione. Maybe you're hallucinating.'

'I'm not hallucinating!' Hermione replied, her attempt at being irritated ruined by the fact that she couldn't keep herself from laughing. 'Give me back my inkpot, Draco, I need to finish this essay.'

Scowling a little, he pulled it out from under the table and handed it to her. 'Sorry, but watching you write about…' – he put his head on one side, reading the title written on her parchment, ' 'The Difficulties Inherent In Transfiguring A Non-Edible Object Into An Article Of Consumption' – which is a ridiculous title, by the way – is not the most riveting way to spend an afternoon. Talk to me.'

'You sounded like a whiny five-year-old when you said that,' she teased. He hadn't, but she enjoyed the look of horror that passed over his face.

'I never whine,' Draco protested, shaking his head so vehemently that several fine strands of his silvery hair fell into his eyes. He brushed them away. 'Never, never, never.'

'Except when you want me to talk to you. Just be patient, Draco, I'm almost done as it is.'

'Alright, but be quick,' he instructed her, absent-mindedly picking up her inkpot and running his fingers over the glass, across the smooth, rounded edges. Hermione rolled her eyes, plucked it out of his hand, and went back to writing.

She was aware of his eyes on her as she wrote; watching as she scratched the quill across the paper, crossing every 't' and dotting every 'i', dipping the quill into the inkpot and scribbling another line or two, words, sentences, paragraphs. She didn't mind him watching her; it wasn't a scrutinising, evaluating, curious look, but simply one of mild interest. And, she thought on the few occasions when she glanced up to meet his gaze with a smile, it was a softer, gentler look than he'd ever have worn even a week ago.

She finished, eventually, and placed the last full stop with a smile. Rolling the parchment up, she began replacing everything in her bag, while Draco waited patiently. At last, she leaned back in her chair and relaxed.

'Anything interesting happened in the half-hour or so since I saw you last?' he asked with a mild curiosity.

'Some things,' she said, a mingled expression of happiness and distress coming to her face. 'Harry's awake, according to Ron, and I'm fairly sure he's going to be okay. Which is good, I was worried. Though Ron won't go and visit – when Madam Pomfrey lets in visitors again, that is – because of that argument… You heard it, didn't you? The one over…' Hermione trailed off. 'Oh. You don't know about that…'

'About Sirius Black?' Draco asked. 'I am the son of a Death Eater, Hermione. I know all about it. Peter Pettigrew's not really dead, Black was innocent and living in hiding, then he got killed at the Department of Mysteries. And he was a friend of Harry's father, which was why Harry got so upset over it…'

Hermione nodded, feeling strangely uneasy. 'Harry's godfather.'

Draco merely nodded. 'I know enough to understand what their argument was about. So they're still being awkward over that?'

'Ron said something else happened,' Hermione admitted, 'but he wouldn't tell me what.'

This made Draco frown; a thoughtful frown, as though he were working on a particularly tricky Arithmancy problem. 'Intriguing. What do you intend to do?'

'Ask Harry what happened,' she replied simply, with a tiny shrug of her shoulders. 'Then try to get Ron to visit him. It might be impossible, but they can't stay like this forever…'

'Hopefully not.' Draco agreed. Hermione found it suddenly odd; to be discussing Harry and Ron's friendship with Draco was… strange. Draco still belonged in a completely separate world, back in a pure white prison, a world of pain and fear and hope and first-kisses… At Hogwarts, he was supposed to be the enemy; and occasionally she was struck by just how much things had changed.

'Why do you say that?' she asked before thinking, and had to quickly clarify. 'I mean, you hated Harry and Ron until a few days ago, and now we're discussing the state of their friendship…'

He was silent for a moment, before saying, as though the thought irritated him, 'Well, if they fight that'll upset you.'

The honest reply surprised her, and she laughed a little. 'And you don't want to see me upset?'

'No. Which is annoying because I'm not supposed to care,' he said, examining his hands as though he could read the future from the delicate lines engraved in his pale skin. 'But then, I've done a lot of things I'm not supposed to do lately.'

'Like fall in love?'

'Yes.'

Hermione beamed widely at that, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. He smiled too, but the moment was ruined by a small scream from a corner nearby, and an outbreak of loud and excited whispers. Looking over, they saw a group of third-year Slytherins who had evidently been watching them with some interest.

Draco sighed. 'By the time the sun sets, the entire school will know about us. By breakfast tomorrow, there will be approximately… shall we say twenty wild rumours flying around? Some of which will involve marriage proposals and teenage pregnancy, I've no doubt. That seems about right.'

Hermione chuckled, then shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. They'll talk; it'll be embarrassing and annoying for a few weeks… I'm kind of used to it. Being a close friend of The Boy Who Lived will do that, especially after all those rumours in fourth year…'

'The ones about you, Krum and Harry?' Draco asked, smirking. 'I remember. Completely ridiculous, even I could tell that.'

She nodded. 'So I don't mind the rumours that much. Ron knows, of course… I don't think he could help but notice…'

'Is he intending to creep into the Slytherin dormitories and torture me to death?' Draco enquired. 'It'd be useful to know beforehand. Give me time to return my library books, that kind of thing.'

Hermione laughed and swatted lightly at his arm. 'No, actually he was very understanding about it. I'm fairly sure he's completely repulsed by the idea, though, and he's just forcing himself to accept it for my sake… He'll get used to it,' she finished. 'Harry might be a different case. It's always really been you and him that were the rivals; Ron and I were just his back-up and kept stepping into the firing line.'

Draco nodded slowly. 'Best to tell him as soon as you can, while he's still in the Hospital Wing and can't get out of bed. Gives him some time to calm down.' He paused after this; his eyes narrowing as he glanced over to the third-years, who were still watching them in something between amazement and horror.

'Those kids are beginning to annoy me,' he muttered. 'You'd think they'd seen more than a kiss on the cheek… Well,' he trailed off thoughtfully, a grin forming on his face and a slightly evil twinkle in his eye, 'we may as well give them something really interesting to gossip about…'

'What do you mean…' Hermione began, but was soon cut off as Draco leaned towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 'Oh, no, not in here, we're in a library for goodness' sake…'

She was cut off as he kissed her firmly on the lips. After a moment's pause, she gave in, kissing him back and mentally grinning to herself over the outbreak of scandalised whispers from the next table along. If she was going to shock the school with such an unusual relationship as theirs, she was certainly not going to do anything by halves…

~*~

Harry couldn't sleep.

Not that he wanted to, particularly. He'd spent a day unconscious already, and that had been plagued with nightmares, and images, and memories. Everything from the vague memory of his parent's death to Dudley's taunts and bullying, fighting Quirrel, the Basilisk and seeing Voldemort's return, Cedric, Sirius, and the insane, unreal moment when he'd lost his sanity and tortured first Bellatrix, then his own friend…

He sighed, turning over in his bed, agitated. Night had already fallen – it was getting earlier and earlier – and the darkness fitted well with his mood. Of course, the Hospital Wing was still lit, albeit dimly. Although the curtains were drawn around his bed, he had a large gap left open, so that he could see what was going on. Two windows were clearly visible; outside them was perfect, unbroken blackness, as though this room was all there was of the world, and outside it there was nothing else but pain and misery.

Of course, that was all there was inside the room as well. Dumbledore had been in, to have his version of events, and Harry had painfully avoided mentioning what he'd done. He'd expected Dumbledore to bring it up, and couldn't bring himself to say it aloud, but to his surprise it hadn't been mentioned. So either Dumbledore was keeping quiet about it, or Ron hadn't told him… Probably the latter; victims of pain and crime were well known for not speaking about it…

'Mr Potter?'

It was Madam Pomfrey's voice, and Harry turned over to see the school nurse twitching back the curtain and smiling amicably at him. He attempted to smile in return, but he could tell without seeing it that it was a weak, watery smile. Still, Madam Pomfrey didn't appear to mind.

'Now, I'm not letting many people in to visit, mind, there's still too many injured in here…' she began, and Harry's heart filled with dread. Hermione would know, surely, and it was only she or Ron that would come and visit…

'It's alright, I don't mind not having visitors, I wouldn't want you to let visitors in while people are still ill and you're overworked…' Harry said quickly, trying to dissuade her from allowing anyone in, but she just smiled.

'She's been past here three times in the past five hours asking when she could see you,' Madam Pomfrey pointed out kindly. 'If I don't let her in, she'll have a breakdown from the worry and be joining you herself, I've no doubt.'

'Hermione, then?' Harry asked, his dread receding slightly. It would still be difficult, talking to her when she knew what… what he'd done, but it would be better, a thousand times better, than if Ron had come.

'Yes, yes. She's very worried, you know… But Mr Weasley hasn't been by once, strangely enough. Maybe he's asleep, or something. Recovering from that ordeal.'

Harry didn't meet her eyes, feeling quite sick. 'We had… a fight,' he explained numbly, giving no more detail that that.

'Ah, you teenage boys…' she clucked. 'Always fighting about something. It's the age; you never have as much common sense as you ought at your age… Never mind, you'll make up soon enough. And I've chattered for far too long, I'm sure you'd far rather talk to your friend… Miss Granger?' She turned away, vanishing from Harry's line of vision, and he didn't bother to turn his head so that he could see her.

He heard the soft scraping sound of someone pulling up a chair, a creak as they sat down, and then a familiar worried voice asking, 'Harry?'

Reluctantly, he turned towards Hermione with the brightest smile he could muster – not very bright, but he didn't want her to worry. 'Hey, Hermione,' he said. She looked fretful, and he could see that the past few days hadn't treated her well; she looked pale and thin, though thankfully he could pinpoint no visible signs of injury.

'Harry.' She smiled, relief spreading over her face. 'Are you alright? I heard – one of the Death Eaters told me – that anyone who tried to stop the curse would die, I was so scared…'

'I'm fine,' he assured her. He was, physically. 'Dumbledore has a theory about how I did that… how I managed to survive. You know how…' he brushed his scar absently with a finger, 'how I'm kind of… connected to Voldemort?'

She nodded, looking puzzled, and then realisation spread over her face. 'Oh! And Voldemort set the spell up, and he was the one who could turn it off, so when you tried it…'

'It nearly killed me, but because I was connected to him, it didn't,' Harry finished. He smiled again, and it was easier this time; she hadn't yet spoken of what had happened with Ron, and it was almost possible to forget what she was surely going to say…

'I wish I'd thought of that sooner,' she said with a tremulous smile. 'I might have been less worried.'

Harry couldn't think of a reply, and the conversation lapsed into silence. Hermione fidgeted in her chair – obviously, thought Harry as his nausea returned, she was worried about how to bring up the subject.

'Ron said…' she began, and a peculiar, paralysing, icy dread began to creep over Harry. He lay completely still, staring at the high ceiling, waiting for her to continue. 'Ron said that you'd fought over something… He wouldn't tell me what, but I know it must have been bad, because he doesn't want to come and visit… He said it was something you did, and I should ask you. So… tell me?'

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and trying to calm himself. So she didn't know, Ron hadn't told her. Relief and guilt and pain and misery and worry all seared through him simultaneously…

'No.' he said briefly, without thinking about it., 'I can't… I can't tell you about it. It's too…'

'Too what?' She broke in, her voice sounding worried again.

'Too painful to remember,' he admitted, and shuddered before opening his eyes. 'Is… Is Ron mad at me?'

He didn't know why he'd asked that; certainly he expected no answer other than that Ron was furious, hurt and rage-filled, even if he hid it. But Harry had to ask, because he had to know whether there was any spark of hope to cling to at all.

'No.' Hermione said, and it took Harry by surprise. 'At least, he didn't act like it. He acted just… awkwardly, oddly.'

'He hates me,' Harry said firmly, swallowing down the painful lump in his throat. 'He has to hate me, after what happened. He's just hiding it…'

'How could Ron ever hate you?' Hermione whispered.

He didn't answer that, just looked away, and a second uncomfortable silence settled over them. When he glanced towards her, she was rubbing the joint of her thumb nervously, looking distracted and uncomfortable. As though she had something to say, but didn't know how to say it.

'You do know about what happened, don't you?' Harry asked pessimistically. 'You're hiding something from me, I can see it.'

'What?' Hermione looked up in surprise. 'I don't know what happened, I swear it.'

'Then what are you hiding?' Harry demanded, his eyes flashing almost angrily. He hated people keeping secrets and hiding information and not telling him things, ever since the beginning of fifth year…

'Something not to do with Ron.' She sighed, bowing her head, so that her bushy brown hair fell forward and hid her face. She didn't bother to smooth it back. 'You know how… how Draco gave us the instructions and came with us and helped us?'

'Yes…' Harry replied shortly, and then added, 'And why did you call him Draco?'

'I'll get to that.' She paused again. 'Well, when we ran into that sandstorm, remember how Draco yelled at us all to lie down and wait it out? He managed to get me to, but you and Ron ran off. So then we were stuck together… and then got captured by Death Eaters. It was my fault,' she added, before Harry could speak, 'I thought they were you and Ron. False hopes…'

Harry nodded, frowning and watching her. Where was this leading? 'So you were stuck with Malfoy the Slytherin bastard?'

She stiffened, biting her lip. 'Please don't call him that…' she said, her voice soft. 'He… well. Just don't.'

This make Harry even more puzzled, but he nodded. 'Go on,' he told her.

'Well, we were taken to a dungeon and locked up together. And… I learnt a lot about him. It wasn't a very long time, but I found out a lot of things. Like why he was so mean to us, and why he went against his father, and what he's really like when he isn't being… a Slytherin bastard, like you said.' She looked up, and gave him a wan smile. He could see that she was trembling, slightly, and looked almost afraid. A thought struck Harry.

'Did he hurt you?' he growled, and even he was surprised by the menace in his voice. Hermione was startled, and shook her head emphatically.

'No, no, he didn't hurt me at all. Not at all,' she assured him. 'But what did happen is that… that…'

She trailed off. 'Well?' Harry asked. 'What happened? You're shaking, Hermione, obviously he did something to scare you…'

'Harry…' Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it. 'It's not him I'm frightened of… it's you. You won't react well to this…'

'Just tell me. I'm not going to hurt you because of something he's done to you.'

Hermione shook her head. 'There's no easy way to say this…' She took a breath, looked him in the eyes, and said it. 'We kissed. Draco and I. And then we talked about it, and we're going out.'

There was a moment of absolute, pure and silent shock 'What?'

'You… you heard what I said,' Hermione looked away, and then looked back, seeming to force herself to meet his eyes. 'And don't start asking if he's got me under some spell, because he hasn't. He's… he's completely different when you get to know him properly…'

But Harry wasn't listening. 'What's he done to you?' he hissed venomously. 'Have you lost your mind? This is Malfoy, he's been insulting you for years, and you spend a few days locked up with him and suddenly he's your boyfriend?'

'Harry, please…' Hermione pleaded desperately, but Harry was gripped by a silent, angry kind of rage; rage born of shock, of horror, of years spent in deadly rivalry. He was beyond the point of listening to her.

'That bastard…' he spat. 'I'll kill him! I'll make him wish he'd never been born, I…'

He broke off suddenly, staring without seeing at the distant wall of the Hospital Wing, eyes widening in horror. Hadn't he felt exactly the same before, faced with Bellatrix, faced with Ron, hadn't he felt just this desire to hurt, to injure, to kill… No, no, he mustn't let himself feel like this, he couldn't let himself hurt anyone again, no, no…

'No…' It broke free of his lips without thought, a strangled syllable, and broke the silence. He was aware of Hermione leaning over him, alarm in her eyes.

'Harry?' she asked tentatively. 'What happened? You just… I don't know, you were raging and then you went all silent like you'd seen… something horrible…'

'I… I saw… a memory, I suppose.' He looked over at her, feeling a sudden wave of revulsion at the thought of her and Malfoy together, but pushed it away. 'Do what you want. Go out with Malfoy. But be careful. Be careful…'

She didn't look appeased. If anything, she seemed even more worried. 'What… what's wrong? You were angry a moment ago, and then you went all weird and changed your mind… what made you do that?'

'A memory,' he repeated again. 'I… I got angry like that before…'

He glanced upwards, saw the concern and worry and fear written on her face, and realised that he had to tell her. 'I… Ron and I… we ran into Bellatrix. The one who killed Sirius.'

Harry swallowed, and heard Hermione's gasp. 'I… I don't know what happened! I was angry, and she was… She killed him, she killed Sirius… I lost my sanity, I guess. I duelled with her…'

He lost his tongue again, but Hermione prompted him shakily. 'Go on, you can tell me.'

'We duelled. And I… I was so angry. I can't explain it, I can't justify it, but…' His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. 'I used… the Cruciatius.'

Hermione didn't speak. Glancing towards her, he saw that she had her hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide and fearful. He had to finish telling her, now he'd begun. 'Ron… Ron tried to stop me, and she Disapparated. I was angry at him then, for letting her get away… I… Metue. You know that curse?'

She nodded bleakly. 'You… used it on him?' Her voice was a squeak, and Harry could only nod in answer, feeling the burning heat of shame and guilt pour through him.

'Oh, Harry…' She seemed on the brink of tears. 'Don't… don't be guilty, it's okay. Ron isn't mad at you, he'd forgive you…'

'Don't.' Harry told her forcefully, his throat tightening. 'Don't say… don't say anything. Just… just go.'

'Harry, I…'

'Go!'

She seemed unsure, but Madam Pomfrey's voice broke into the proceedings from far away. 'Miss Granger? It's time to go.'

Hermione gave Harry one last look, a look of worry and sympathy and horror and fear, and stood up, reaching for the edge of the curtain around his bed. 'It's okay, really Harry. I'm still your friend. I'll be here for you. And… and don't be guilty… just don't be.'

She looked over her shoulder then at something behind her, and with a whispered 'Goodbye…' she closed the curtain around his bed, shutting Harry off from the world. In the dark, dim light, he curled up into a ball, and was almost surprised when he touched his face and found it wet with tears he didn't remember crying.

~*~

A/N: I don't think there's much to say after that: except to do the usual begging for reviews. Go on, please? Reviews make Harry happy…