Ch. 4: Attitude

Ron stared out of the window of the Hogwarts Express. Hermione hadn't said a single word to him- not one- in the entire time they'd been on the train, despite the fact that he had been apologizing to her up and down. Never mind the fact that I'd been unconscious, he thought wryly. Eventually, he had given up and commenced his current activity: being bored out of his mind.

"Ron?" Harry brushed a single strand off the scar- the scar that had always caught his eye. Instantly Ron's head snapped- Ow- that was a mistake- to face his best friend.

"Shame about Mione, innit?" Harry whispered. "What the hell did you do to make her so pissed?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" Ron screamed, leaving behind a bewildered Harry.

Ron knew he'd been harsh with Harry; honestly, he couldn't help it. Was it his fault that Hermione was such a fucking stress case? Clutching his bag even tighter, he felt color coming into his face. A long time ago- long time ago- they'd had a stint, well, together. Full-frontal snogging, the works. She'd been willing to-his face flushed deeper. Well, it was over now; they'd decided they were better as friends and they'd been having a hard time keeping it from Harry anyway.

And then there was Vicky besides, Vicky who Herm could never quite stop talking about…Bastard had been the nail in the damn coffin.

Sighing, Ron found himself in an empty compartment- well, nearly empty, there was someone sleeping on the bench opposite him. Tentatively, Ron walked up to him- or her, the sleeping form was turned and completely covered- and clapped.

Nothing.

He shrugged. Well, in that case, they wouldn't wake up while he was getting dressed. Opening his bag, he threw off the Muggle shirt he'd been wearing.

Not noticing that the sleeping figure, in fact, was stirring.

Was that somebody clapping behind her?

Gwen stayed perfectly still. It was probably her imagination anyway, she thought; she didn't know anybody at this school- especially not well enough for them to try to wake her up. The train hadn't stopped, anyway.

Yes, it must be her imagination.

Or not, another voice whispered as the unmistakable sound of sneezing filled the room.

Slowly, she removed the cover and turned. The result, at the least, was pleasing to her eyes. Damn, she thought. That's a fine specimen of man-flesh.

He had a full head of bright red hair, cut awkwardly (probably by his mother, she thought with a snicker) but- just so. At parts the silky strands fell to his shoulders- his shirtless shoulders. The back was finely toned as well as-she blushed- lower parts of his body. The legs were skinny but had just enough muscle so not to be gangly. His face- as he turned-

As he turned!

She would have given anything for an invisibility cloak just then.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Harry asked, staring into Hermione's eyes. "Because even after what you told me- don't get me wrong, he deserved to be reprimanded- but honestly, Herm, he was unconscious! And you've –never-"

"Said fuck?" Hermione asked. "Or done this?" She shakily raised a hand, with only one finger raised. "Which part were you talking about, hmm?" Her very stance seemed to threaten Harry, but her quavering lips told a different story.

"Herm?" Harry asked, suddenly aware of her vulnerability. Possibilities dawned before him- each more unlikely than the last.

And then it hit him with a sickening intensity.

"Viktor-he-?" He asked, placing an arm around her shoulder. To his surprise, she did not turn away. Burying her face in his chest, she desperately tried not to cry, tried to salvage the shards of her dignity.

But Harry was stroking her hair, whispering to her, like Vicky had-

Suddenly, her resolve was broken; the dam that had held back her emotions for nearly a month broke with a shuddering quickness.

"He said he loved me," she choked, between tears. "But all of a sudden, it was I like you so much, darling. And- and then That's why I like you, Herm. But- and- he said It's over, Hermione. There can't be anything more between us…he didn't want to keep me, nobody does or will…didn't want to keep me…"

"Bastard didn't know what love is," Harry found himself saying. "Wasn't even worthy of you in the first place, darling, and you knew that. He must have been the worst…worst manslime ever…" Harry heard a small laugh ripple beneath his chest. "To have let something as precious as you go…" He found his coherence slipping, felt her breathing regulate and slow.

She had fallen asleep in his lap.

"I'd keep you," Harry whispered. "If you'll let me."