Chapter I.

After Dumbledore's announcement about the year's first Hogsmeade visit to take place the very next day, the Dining Hall was abuzz with conversation. With the exception of the First and Second year students – who were picking despondently at their food and wishing hopelessly that they were older so they could go – all of the chatter was fast and excited. Over roast beef and pumpkin juice, invitations were proposed and accepted, meeting times were set, and destinations were declared. Down the table, Harry heard Parvati and Lavender discussing some special, enchanted stationary that they wanted to pick up, then Colin Creevey's still-shrill voice announcing that he needed more film.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered sullenly, borrowing one of Ron's favourite phrases, "hasn't he gotten bored of photograph-taking yet?"

Across from him, Harry's best friend Ron was wolfing down candied treacles as if they were the last ones that existed in the world, and he'd never have another. He was nearly insensate from the gorging, but didn't miss Harry's glum tone. "Wush matta' wi' ooh, 'Arry?" he managed around a mouthful of pastry.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron," said the brown-haired girl sitting next to him. Hermione's tone was absent, however…she too had picked up on Harry's surly mood. "What is it, Harry?"

"I can't go to Hogsmeade tomorrow," Harry said, viciously stabbing at his mashed potatoes. "Snape gave me detention, remember?"

"Oh, right," Ron said, suddenly remembering. He tried to affect a sympathetic expression, but he looked so like a chipmunk with his cheeks packed full of treacle that the overall effect was comedic instead. Next to him, Hermione shook her head, trying to hide a small smile, then sobered when she turned back to Harry.

"That was so unfair of him to give you detention. It wasn't your fault that your potion turned Neville purple. The directions on the board clearly said that the one drinking the potion should stir vigorously in a clockwise direction before ingesting. How was it your fault that Neville stirred it in a counter-clockwise direction?"

"She's right," Ron chimed in. "I swear, sometimes it seems as if Snape's harder on you now than he ever was before, and we're all supposed to be on the same side now!"

"Maybe he's trying to keep up appearances," Hermione said with less than her usual conviction. "It's very dangerous to do what he's doing…" Here her voice lowered, and she leaned in conspiratorially. "You know. Being undercover for the Order, and working with Voldemort – oh honestly, Ron – maybe he just can't be seen as going any easier on you than he did before."

"No danger of that," Ron said bitterly, smarting a little over his ongoing inability to hear the name "Voldemort" without uttering a small, ingrained gasp of terror, when Hermione could just blithely say it with no difficulty. "He's doing a tremendous job, acting as cruel and unfair as he ever did."

Hermione's sympathetic smile seemed more sincere than Ron's, simply due to the lack of food in her mouth. "Well we won't go either, will we, Ron?" she said, ignoring the redhead's incredulous look. She shot him a stern one back. "We can just all go together on the next trip."

Harry shook his head and sighed. "It's nice of you to offer, Hermione, but there's no point in both of you missing out, too. Just bring me back something from Honeydukes," he added with a smile.

Hermione and Ron were relieved to see the smile. Last year Harry had sort of…floundered. His behavior had been perfectly understandable: in a very short time he'd witnessed the death of a fellow schoolmate, and the death of his godfather, who was really the only sort of family he had (not counting the Dursleys, who didn't want Harry just about as much as Harry didn't want them). He'd also seen Voldemort's return to power, and realized that some sort of psychic link bonded them. All around, it had not been a good year, and he had suffered accordingly. But now that the rest of the wizarding world had finally acknowledged that Voldemort was back, and there were steps being taken to fight him, Harry had found his footing again. While he still carried a burden no sixteen year old boy should have to bear, he seemed better able to handle it this year.

They quickly finished eating; Hermione was done before Harry and Ron, mostly because she stopped when she was full. And so it was that she was already rising when Dean approached them. "Hello Hermione," he greeted her politely. "Harry, Ron."

They all exchanged hellos, and Dean returned his attention to Hermione. "Do you think I could talk to you for a moment?"

Hermione blinked. Even though he was a Gryffindor, like them, she didn't know Dean as well as Harry and Ron did, and therefore couldn't think of any reason why he'd want to speak to her. Then again, there was no better way to find out than to go with him. "All right," she replied. "I'll meet you back in the common room," she added to Harry and Ron, and then walked off with Dean.

Eyes narrowed, Ron watched them walk away together. "What do you suppose he wants with her?" he asked Harry.

"Dunno. Help with his homework, maybe?"

Harry hadn't really noticed the faint frown on his friend's face until the redhead's expression cleared as if in relief at the possible explanation. "You're right, that's probably it," Ron said. When Harry arched an eyebrow at him in a silent question, Ron looked stared back blankly. "What?"

Harry shook his head. Ron was his best friend, truly, but he could be a bit thick at times. Especially in this one particular area. He said nothing as they rose to leave.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was nearly an hour later when Hermione finally came through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Harry were sitting before the fire playing a game of Wizard's Chess which, for once, Ron was not winning. Harry was excited about his chance to take the game, though he had to admit the reason his friend hadn't beaten him already was because Ron's eyes had been riveted on the common room entrance, taking breaks only long enough to look at his watch. Even Ron's Queen had noticed; she'd scolded him several times for not paying attention as his pieces were taken, one by one.

When Hermione entered the room, Ron spoke up immediately. "Where have you been all this time?" he demanded.

Hermione startled like a deer at a sudden noise. Then, recovering herself, she straightened and adopted her most lofty expression…the one that usually signaled that she'd taken offense at something Ron had said, and that a fight was about to occur. Harry sighed when Hermione replied "Excuse me, but I wasn't aware that I had to report in to you."

Ron's expression was quickly becoming thunderous. "You said you were going to meet us back in the common room." He didn't even look at the board when he picked up his last remaining Bishop and put it down again with a little too much force. Harry decided not to mention that his friend had just moved quite illegally…Bishops didn't normally advance forward four, and over three. Knowing that to venture an opinion of any kind during one of Ron and Hermione's famous rows was to invite anger from both of his best friends, Harry wisely kept his own counsel and quietly nudged a pawn up one diagonal square. The pawn – unaccustomed to kills of this prestigious nature – took gleeful pleasure in offing the Bishop, which stared accusingly at Ron until it was dust.

The little melodrama on the board was lost on Hermione. "And here I am, meeting you back in the common room," she said haughtily.

"That was an hour ago!" Ron exclaimed.

"Congratulations, Ron," Hermione said sarcastically, "It's so satisfying to see that you've gained thorough mastery of timekeeping."

Before he could come back with a scathing response, Hermione sighed loudly. "If you really must know, I was at the library. I ran into Professor McGonagall in the corridor, and we were talking about a Transfiguration spell that I've been wanting to try. But it requires a special ingredient that Hogwarts doesn't usually carry. Professor McGonagall said I could pick it up in Hogsmeade if I wanted to do an extra credit assignment, however, so I went to the library to find out more about it. Is that enough information for you, Ron, or would you like the reference number of the book I used?"

"Well…what did Dean want?" Ron asked grudgingly. It was clear that he really didn't wish to give Hermione the satisfaction of knowing he was curious, but since she hadn't volunteered the information there was no way for him to find out short of asking her.

Fortunately for him, Hermione seemed not to notice his miserable attempt at nonchalance. In fact, she was looking everywhere but directly back at him. "Oh…that," she said. "That only took a moment."

Ron's eyes, however, never left Hermione for an instant. He absently moved another piece (his King, as it were, and directly into the path of Harry's Rook. Technically another illegal move, but Harry wasn't going to complain). "What only took a moment?" he wanted to know.

"Oh honestly," Hermione said to herself, and to Ron's alarm she started to blush. "He just wanted to know if I'd go with him to Hogsmeade tomorrow, that's all."

Ron nearly bolted out of his chair. "What?! Dean asked you to go with him?"

It was no faint blush on Hermione's cheeks now; her face had turned red with anger. "And why shouldn't he ask me, hm? Is there something wrong with me? Am I defective in some way?"

"What?" Ron said again, this time in confusion. "What are you…wait, that's not what I meant. I just - "

Before he could finish, Hermione – visibly trying to calm herself – held out a hand to stop him. "Ron. It's late. I'm tired, and tomorrow will be a long day. I'm not arguing with you right now, I'm going to bed. Please let's just…not. All right?" The last she said almost as if in a plea, then she turned around in the ensuing silence and went up to the girls' dormitory.

Ron sank back into his armchair, stunned. He looked at the chess board without really seeing Harry's players as they broke out into an impromptu victory dance after soundly defeating Ron's pieces. He didn't even notice when his own players got up and blew a mass raspberry at him. His gaze lifted to Harry, who was watching him silently. "That's not what I meant," he said defensively.

"I know," Harry replied quietly. "And I think she probably does, too, but the way you said it did sound sort of like you couldn't believe Dean would ask her to go."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Ron insisted again. "I just didn't think that's what he…I didn't know he was…"

"Interested in Hermione?" Harry finished helpfully.

Ron paled. "That…that doesn't necessarily mean he's interested in her. Maybe he just wants her to go to help him find something for his sister, or…"

He fumbled as he tried to find another reason, and trailed off. "Did she say yes?" he asked suddenly, pinning Harry with an intense stare. "Did she say if she said yes?"

"You didn't give her a chance to," Harry reminded him. "But she said tomorrow was going to be a long day, so I assume that means she's going with him."

"Why would she go with him?!" Ron hissed.

"Why shouldn't she?" Harry replied in a surprised voice. "What's wrong with Dean? You sleep in the same dormitory as him every night. As far as I know, you've never had any problem with him…why shouldn't he take Hermione to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" he asked, keeping his voice deliberately casual.

Ron, however, looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Be…Because. Because he just can't!" was all he managed to stammer back.

Overwhelmed in the face of Ron's flat-out refusal to accept the real reason why this vexed him so, Harry gaped at his friend in disbelief. "You really don't know, do you? You don't even know… still."

Ron scowled irritably. "Know what?"

"The real reason why Hermione going to Hogsmeade with Dean bothers you."

"Oh, and you know the answer, do you?" Ron asked, folding his arms as if prepared to sit back and listen to a good story. "Go on, then. What is it?"

Harry almost laughed at the absurdity. "I normally try to stay out of this whole issue," he said, "but I just can't take it any more. You're driving me crazy. And you're certainly driving Hermione crazy." He settled back into his own chair. "I want you to think back, Ron. Think back to the last time you got this upset over Hermione going somewhere with someone. Can you remember?"

At the imperceptible shake of Ron's head, Harry continued. "I can. It was the Yule Ball. A normally festive occasion, at which you completely ignored your own date in favor of obsessing over what Hermione and Viktor Krum were doing. Viktor Krum, who – I should remind you – had been a perfectly acceptable human being in your opinion, until he began to fancy Hermione. Then you suddenly couldn't stand him, for some reason. Didn't you ever wonder why you reacted to him that way when you'd been one of his biggest fans before?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off, continuing, "And aren't you wondering now why you're having this reaction to Dean – someone you consider a friend – simply because he's going to Hogsmeade with Hermione tomorrow?"

Ron gaped at him for a moment, then came to himself. "I fail to see the similarity - " he started.

Harry interrupted him again. "Yes, you've been failing to see a lot of things whenever his particular situation arises."

Ron, apparently deciding that the best defense was a good offense, demanded "And you think you know the answer. So what is it?"

"It's simple," Harry replied, his voice deceptively mild. "You're jealous."

For the second time that night Ron bolted out of his chair. "I am not!" he claimed. His voice was hot with denial, as if Harry had just accused him of wanting to defect to the Slytherin Quidditch team. "You and Hermione are my friends. She…she's like a sister to me!"

"She is not," Harry said. "She's like a sister to me, and I never cared that she went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, and I don't mind that Dean wants to take her to Hogsmeade. I'm not the one who gets all hot and bothered every time she gets a letter from Krum. You are." He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, his case made. Now that it was finally out, there was no way that Ron could deny it.

Though it looked as if he were trying mightily. His face was flushed, and his hands were clenching on their own accord as he turned and paced away from the chair, then spun and came back again. He gripped the high back of the chair. "You're off your bird," he informed Harry. "You've gone completely nutters."

"All right then," Harry said, leaning forward again so that his elbows rested on his knees. "Try this little exercise. Think about tomorrow. Imagine Hermione coming down tomorrow morning and meeting Dean before they're off to Hogsmeade. They have a fabulous day together. Maybe he takes her into that silly couples café. You know, the one I told you about with all of the little hearts. Maybe he holds her hand there, and she lets him."

By this point Ron's jaw was just as tightly clenched as his fists, but Harry went on. "Imagine that they have such a grand time together, that they decide to do it again on the next trip. And then maybe he gets up the nerve to ask if she'll be his girl. Is that really what you want, Ron?"

It clearly wasn't, and Ron couldn't deny the feelings of jealousy and rage that were coursing through him at the thought of Dean and Hermione as a couple.

"Or," Harry said lightly, holding one of his hands out to the side as if it cupped Ron's other option, "You could admit that you're in love with her, and then who knows how things might end up?"

Ron stared at Harry's outstretched hand as if he were frightened of the nebulous future that Harry spoke of. He shook his head slowly, in a daze. "I'm not…I don't love…Hermione," he said to himself, appearing shaken, and thoughtful. Then he looked at Harry uncertainly. "Do I…love Hermione?" he finally breathed, obviously stunned.

Harry nodded, not without sympathy. "You do, mate."

"Well why the bloody hell didn't you tell me?" Ron exploded, stalking off. He returned immediately. "How long has this been going on, then?" he demanded to know, as if it hadn't all been there inside him from the beginning.

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, unable to keep from grinning at Ron's belated realization, "the Yule ball was two years ago…so for at least that long. But I had my suspicions before then."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered miserably.

"Hey," Harry said. "It doesn't have to be a bad thing, Ron."

"Not a bad thing?!" Ron exclaimed. "This is horrible, Harry. She's my friend. As much a friend to me as you are. If she ever finds out, it could ruin everything."

"Hang on," Harry interjected. "You mean you're not going to tell her?"

Ron looked at Harry as if he'd just suggested that they go 'round Hogwarts with a megaphone proclaiming the Order's plans for defeating Voldemort. "Of course I'm not going to tell her! What possible good could come from that?"

Harry was confused. "You could end up going out with her. Isn't that…what you want?"

Ron snorted, but there was more defeat in the action than humor. "It'd never happen, mate." He shook his head, still wanting – but being unable – to disbelieve what he'd just learned about himself. He thought it through for a moment, struggling with his conflicting emotions. Then he looked up at Harry. "She can't ever know, Harry," he finally said. "This friendship, between the three of us…it's important. In a way, each of us has found something here that we were missing in our lives before Hogwarts. I can't risk ruining that just because I…"

He paused and took a deep breath. "Because I love Hermione," he was finally able to say.

Harry said nothing at first, surprised at Ron's insight and self-control. Then, tentatively, he spoke. "Ron…based on your reasons, I actually support your decision. I don't want to lose the friendship the three of us have, either. But I feel like there are two things I have to say before we can just let this go."

He waited for Ron's grudging nod before he continued. "One: I don't really believe that Hermione's the sort of person who would hold that against a friend, do you?"

Ron sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "No," he agreed. "At least not intentionally. But if I told her, it would be…awkward, at the least. I think we'd have a hard time being around each other."

"Unless, of course, she feels the same way," Harry felt compelled to point out. Ron shook his head absently, as if the idea were so farfetched it wasn't even worth mentioning.

"All right then," Harry went on, "Two: You've got to be sure about this. That scenario I constructed for you earlier may end up coming true, you know. And if it's not Dean, eventually it'll be someone." Harry paused, noting Ron's ashen pallor. He hated to do this to him, but it was vital that his friend understand exactly what non-action could entail, so he pressed on. "It's a certainty that someone really will ask her out at some point. And if you've never said anything by then, she'll have absolutely no reason to refuse. Are you…prepared to accept that?"

Ron swallowed, looking pained. "I…I suppose I'll have to, won't I? When the time comes, that is."

Harry recognized the stalling nature of his friend's last sentence. Ron would be able to accept it…as long as Hermione wasn't with anyone. He doubted, though, if Ron realized the complete meaning of his own words, or if he fully understood how hard it was going to be to stand back and watch the girl he'd only just realized that he loved going off with another guy.

If nothing else, Harry thought, tomorrow should be interesting.

.