Guilty Feelings

Author's Note: Sorry if you guys were expecting some good kissing, and hugging, and blah, no, I'm trying best as I can to imitate JK's way of things. (And if I'm not doing a good job with that, you don't have to thrash me on it, either). Oh, and another thing: I couldn't really think of that good a title for this chapter, so it doesn't sum it up that well.

Did you know? In my original plot (way back when) I was going to have Harry and Hermione kiss by mistake in the previous chapter, number 4. The title of chapter 4 was, originally, supposed to be "It's Not Supposed To Be This Way". In order to make my story longer and more interesting, the whole plot of my story altered as I came up with new ideas. However, I may be using that same title in the near future.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Characters, settings, ect. all belong to J.K. Rowling.

He froze, seeing her there by the door. A tickly feeling throbbed throughout his body. His stomach was getting good at doing double somersaults.

Cho caught his presence at once. Her face was bright red. Burning, in fact. The instant she had seen Harry coming her way she had quickly placed a pale hand over her right cheek. Harry wondered why she wasn't rushing away, completely avoiding him from what happened last time.

But Cho didn't budge; she was merely just there, standing by herself in the empty hallway, silence filling between their distances. She was less than ten feet away, he could walk up to her and – but Harry was thinking the absurd.

What in the world would she be doing there anyway, standing just outside the Room of Requirement? Harry fidgeted, and watched as Cho stood there, her hand pressing onto her burning cheek. If he walked away now— Harry told himself, it would set off a sheepish impression that he thoroughly didn't like her— yet he didn't know himself how he was feeling. Mad? Frustrated? Guilty? A sum of those, for sure.

Come on, just walk up to her, say hi, do...something! His mind pleaded him. Gradually he subsided his thoughts, trudging through what seemed miles of distance up to her. His hand was shoved awkwardly in his robes pocket, his other hand trying desperately to smooth his hair – though he hardly thought to care.

"Er, hi." Harry's voice was unfortunately raspy. "So, er, how are things?" He asked, trying to be gentle.

Cho looked up straight away, her soft brown eyes growing big. What did she see in him? Relief? Repent? Disgust? He couldn't tell.

"Harry…." She wasn't smiling, but it was afar from a frown. "I thought you'd be here, I-I mean, I know there isn't any D.A. meeting today." Her voice was low. "B-but…" Her tone faltered, and Harry realized she was on a verge of tears. He didn't think he could stand watching her cry. She was glued to the spot. Harry could easily put a hand on her shoulder, but his hand was apparently frozen in tension by his side. Cho was trying very hard not to look at him, either, for she simply stared at the design on the floor.

"I n-needed to see you, Harry. H-Harry I—" Harry tried not to stare because it was obviously rude, but drips of mascara were rolling down her cheeks, and her lips trembled. Her face was flushed, and it couldn't keep him from not thinking that Cho was especially attractive when her eyes were dotted with tears.

It was all too similar to their last D.A. meeting. Harry felt a strange sensation, even numbness.

"Er—what's wrong?"

Cho looked at him with wet eyes, sniffing. "Oh—nothing," then she started to sob, her head in her hands. "Oh—Harry…" She trembled on in a muffled voice. "It's m-my D-D-Dad," she wept, trying hard to wipe her eyes off her sleeve. "Dumbledore just spoke to me—h-he passed away!" With that last phrase her tears couldn't be stopped, and Harry couldn't help but feel an enormous pang of empathy for her. Her touched her shoulder with all the effort his arm could afford.

"Cho…I'm really…sorry—about your dad. Er, d'you want to—" He was about to ask if she wanted to go to the Great Hall and perhaps catch a bite to eat. Instead he was cut off when Cho has unexpectedly put her arms against him, and was crying into his shoulder.

"Er, Cho…." Harry's head was spinning. He didn't want to consider prying her off, it would be rude. But—what he had no idea what he was supposed to do if she was leaning on him, weeping tears onto his robe? He tried to pat her gently, telling her it would be okay.

Cho had been crying into his shoulder for what seemed like a ceaseless period of time. Finally, sniffing, her face red and puffy –not to mention very pretty—, she pulled away from him, dabbing at her eyes.

"I'm sorry about that," She said quietly, her voice still trembling.

"Er, that's okay." Harry didn't know what to say next. "Erm, are you okay—I mean, do you want to—" His tongue was tied as he searched for the right words. Cho was looking up at him, her cheeks glowing, her big brown eyes looking hopeful.

"—D'you want to go to the Great Hall to get something to eat?" He asked ineptly.

"Okay, I guess." Harry saw her face fall. He said something wrong. She started to turn away.

His heart was beating like a drum. His mind raced with thoughts.

"WAIT—Cho—WAIT!"

Cho spun around.

"Do you—" Harry asked eagerly. "—want to err, walk with me sometime tomorrow night? Erm, like around the school grounds? If you want." He added quickly.

Cho smiled weakly. "I'd love to."

His breath slowed easily. "Yea, okay, so tomorrow night. I'll meet you right in this hall—after dinner?"

Cho nodded, brushing a piece of dark hair away from her face. The way she smiled encouragingly at him and said good night made Harry feel like he was floating evenly on air. It was late—he had no clue how long he had been there with Cho weeping on him. His shoulder was still warm. He shook himself, and decided to hurry back to the common room before Filch, Snape or Umbridge – they were all equally impious as far as he was concerned — caught him dawdling in an empty corridor.

Fidgeting his way up to the Fat Lady's portrait, he caught sight of Seamus and Dean Thomas writhing over some small object.

"Psst! Harry—" Dean gave him a furtive glance. "Don't tell Neville this, but, err—we're borrowing his Historball for just a little bit, okay?" He was drawing his wand from his pocket. "Seamus lost my transfiguration homework sometime b'fore lunch, the louse—"

"HEY! You told me to copy off you!" Seamus lunged at the Historball.

Turning briskly, Harry charged into the common room. The silence was so unusual that it scared Harry. He wondered where everyone was. Then he remembered—they were still coming from the Great Hall. He was probably the only one here, with perhaps the exception of Crookshanks, who was lying by the hearth attempting to clean his tail.

He dropped into a chair, and stared into the fire that spread warmth through his limbs, trying not to think about the thousands of little thoughts stirring in him. He thought it strictly bizarre why his head hadn't exploded into puddles from all the pain he had ever undergone. It wasn't just the fact that he witnessed the uprising of Voldemort once again, but countless little things. The school had also given him—unsurprisingly, for that part— loads of homework. That, however, did not even include the further assessments for the upcoming O.W.L.s.

While his stomach grumbled a bit, he tried to get somewhat done with his Astronomy constellation chart. However, his mind could not concentrate on the exact locations of the Polaris, the Big Dipper, or Astravis the Knight. In a way, he was quite fond of the silence that filled the space around him.

Feeling guilty, this meant his best friends too. Nobody was there to interrupt his extraordinary bubble of peace— above all, to witness the fact that his cheeks were flushed to the most brilliant shade of rose.

"Honestly, Ginny!" Harry shook his head moments later, he had dozed off, and his quill had absently dripped a large quantity of ink over his parchment. He muttered a quick charm that cleaned up the mess, and turned around from his seat to see Ron trudging into the common room with rage.

"For Merlin's sake, Ginny!" Ron said scowling, his temper on a rise. "Just because you're her friend—"

His robes were covered in filth, and a splotch of something Harry did not want to know. "I mean it—STOP LAUGHING!"

Ginny tried stifling her giggles with her hand. "I'm sorry, Ron." She controlled herself, smiling. "Oh, come on, it wasn't so bad!"

"Huh!" Ron stormed into the seat opposite Harry, his eyes glaring at the wall. "Not bad, is it? NOT BAD?"

"Er," Harry cleared his throat, and Ron and Ginny immediately turned to look at him. Their faces were much in contrast; Ginny's one was of utter amusement, Ron's a look of outrage. "What's going on?" He was glad for the interruption, and set his homework aside.

Ron glowered into the fire, while Ginny opened her mouth to explain. "It was during Quidditch practice, Luna was watching us practice—" Ron made a noise in his throat. "— and then she asked if she could try out Ron's broom after we finished, and well," Ginny giggled. "she couldn't get control of it, and she was sweeping down, and Ron was just standing there, and you know—"

"You mean—?"

"She crashed me into a mud puddle! She was on top of me, the little brute!" Ron exploded, his face the color of cherry pie.

Harry grinned. "Great going."

"It's not funny. She was heavy." Ron protested.

Ginny looked wistful. "Oh, it's not a big deal, she can apologize tomorrow." She stifled a yawn. "I'm exhausted, all those tactics Angelina made us do over and over. I'm going up. Good night."

They mumbled good byes to her, and Ron gave an exasperated sigh, but then glanced at the homework Harry was clutching in his hand.

"Oh, you started that, did you? Great, I'll get mine. Never really understood all that rubbish with the stars and stuff." Ron flipped opened the pale astronomy leaflet. However, without text, Harry and Ron wouldn't be able to accomplish anything, much less a whole chart on the subject.

"Okay, lessee, it's under section four in Magic and Rituals. Mansions of the Moon refer to the influence of the Moon as it travels across the sky viewed against the background of constellations...yeah, yeah. Each of these 28 mansions was believed to emanate an influence that could be harnessed by magic in ancient eras…. Any idea what this is talking about?"

Harry's head was throbbing. "No. But, wait—here it says—it's the answer to the column under Al Tarf. It's the seventh mansion of the moon, corresponding to the constellation Leo. It's influence is causing illness, and it's sprit is Scheliel," He shook his head. "Whatever that is."

"Seventh…mansion—causes—illness." Ron muttered, scribbling it onto his notes. "Got that down, mate. What's next? Shall we do Al Sa'd Al Ahbiyah or Al Sa'd Al Dhabih? No, wait— Al Farch Al Mukdim sounds loads better—"

Ron looked up, blinking in confusion. He caught Harry's eye and they burst into laughter.

"Well, I'd say, these potatoes are really good." Dean could be heard saying at his end of the Gryffindor table. "Creamy too, my mom can't cook really, although I do like the way she makes her pudding."

Hermione folded her napkin primly over her lap. "For your information, Dean, I wouldn't be quite so secure to say that at least a dozen house-elves may have sweat their ears and burned their hands cooking the meal on your plate!" She snapped.

Dean Thomas raised an eyebrow unsteadily. "Whatever you say,"

Hermione jabbed her own fork into her potato, and sighed. "Oh, I just can't eat it. Those poor things."

Ron sat down in the empty space next to Dean. "Aww, c'mon Hermione, give yourself a break and eat for once. It won't hurt you, and I'm pretty sure that Dobby and the rest of them won't su—"

"Dobby and the rest of them are being put in a cramped kitchen all day, doing the work of slaves! It just proves there's no elfish welfare in the magical world!" Hermione snapped at him.

"Well—" Ron looked thoughtful as he chewed a mouthful of egg and potato. He swallowed, and answered to the indignant look on her face, nervously. "I suppose, that's their job, isn't it? I mean, and Dumbledore insisted on paying them—"

"Which is no less than what they deserve!" Hermione insisted. "But then again, you wouldn't have anything to say about them because you're always going there for the food!" She pushed her plate away, took a sip of pumpkin juice, and drew her copy of the Daily Prophet out in front of her.

Harry entered the Great Hall wearily. He spotted Ron and Hermione along with the rest at the Gryffindor table. He sat down to the left of Ron. "'Morning," He mumbled.

"Mornin, mate." Ron said, grinning.

"Back already?" Harry asked Hermione in a middle of a large yawn.

Hermione turned her head to the side of her Daily Prophet so that she could see him

"Yes, I'm fine now. Madam Pomfrey let me out this morning, and good riddance, too. I can't stand being there for long—I'm sure you can't possibly either, Harry— people always coming in and out of there sick or messed up of some sort. Just yesterday, a second year rushed in with a huge wart the size of a dungbomb sticking out in his backside. Don't know how it got there."

Ron grinned in a side-glance at Harry. "Naww, Hermione, I think you just don't like it because it's a haven for missing classes."

Hermione looked infuriated. Her head ducked back behind her paper.

Ron changed the subject, ignoring Hermione. "Not looking too good, are you, mate? I decided not to do my charms homework after we finished that chart and everything. Professor Flickwick won't notice anyway, it's not like I ever really get better when I practice."

"Just like you to say that." Hermione added behind her paper.

"Give me a break, I was covered in filth last night from Quidditch practice—you saw it, didn't you Harry? It was that blasted girl, Luna!"

"What'd she do?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, I was nice enough to have her try my broom for a while after practice, but that was before I knew she can't fly at all!" He told her the rest of the story, and Hermione nearly choked at the last part, spewing pumpkin juice over her paper.

"And it ain't like she's as light as a fairy!" Ron added gruffly.

"I heard that." A misty voice said behind him and Harry.

"Hello Luna." Hermione said tonelessly.

Luna apparently ignored her. "You were saying, Ron? Something about me?"

Ron gulped, but tried to stay cool. "Well, it's the truth, you know!"

Harry could see the dreamy look drain from her eyes, which had turned hard.

"Heavy, am I? Compared to you, I'm not that much like an elephant." Luna put in crudely, and strode away coolly.

Ron's ears were now evidently redder than his hair. He didn't say anything.

"I think you hurt her feelings." Ginny said.

"Feelings? You think she has feelings?" Ron burst. "Didn't you hear her insult me? She said I was an elephant—"

Hermione quickly coughed loudly. Ron glared at her.

"Er, I think she's right." Harry said quietly, avoiding Ron's enraged look. "Maybe you said too much."

"Oh, so now it's my fault, isn't it?" Ron roared. "I suppose I'm to blame, just because she crashed down with my broom last night?"

"Just apologize, will you?" Hermione snapped.

"I'm not apologizing for anything, not until she does! She's the one who criticized me!" With that, the whole conversation seemed to come to an end.

After a moment, Ginny stared outside the glass panes overhead. "Clear sky, today. If it's like this tomorrow, it'll be an advantage when we go against Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff?" said Neville. "I thought you went against them already."

"Well we did." Ginny admitted. "But that was ages ago. Slytherin ended up losing to them so we have to go against them again. We'll win, though. I heard their best chaser got knocked out badly from one of his classes—I think it was Potions, someone spilled a bungled Anesthetic solution on him, so he's half conscious. His substitute's a kid who can't see right."

"Our luck." Angelina said next to her, but she wasn't smiling. "I don't know what I'm going to do about Jack Sloper—"

"SERIOUSLY!" Ron said loudly, sputtering bacon onto nearly everybody around him. Hermione shot him a disapproving look before wiping his spit off her own face and handing Harry a napkin too.

"S-sorry," Ron grew read, and quickly gulped down what he was chewing. "Sloper's insane! Can't play Quidditch if his own life depended on it, no, if his mum and dad's life— can't hit a bludger right either! 'Alf the time he spends apologizing out on the field cause for some reason he hits us instead, and the other team always gets the point!" He said angrily.

Angelina finished her flask of juice, and it refilled with more. "Well, that's true enough, but the point I was trying to make is that Jack can't play today either because he was taken off the team on admonition by Professor Umbridge. It's that stupid Decree number thirty-seven or something, says the High Inquisitor has full right to put any Hogwarts student lacking proficiency in more than two subjects—in other words, he's failing—off the team until he makes an improvement."

Ron hit his fists on the table and Harry was able to duck his head in time. "WHAT? Well, that's no excuse for the Slytherins, is it? They've got Crabbe and Goyle! They're failing, haven't heard that they're off the team! She just want to make the Gryffindor lot miserable!"

"He's right." Harry said.

Angelina sighed. "That's the problem. I'm going to talk to Professor McGonagall about this. The game's tomorrow, and if we haven't got enough players, we can't play in the game, which immediately gives Hufflepuff the win."

"That's horrible." Ginny muttered.

"I'm going to ask her now, right before the morning class starts. And," Angelina huffed. "If that doesn't work, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to open up to anyone who can at least ride a broomstick." Looking flustered, but more overwhelmed, she scurried away towards the exit of the Great Hall.

"This is hopeless." Hermione said, folding her newspaper into halves, and finishing off the last of her toast before getting up.

Harry gulped down a portion of his breakfast, before pushing away his plate. It vanished along with Hermione's. "Hermione, can I have a word?"

She looked distracted, and was muttering, "Gosh, I have a whole day's work to make up, I do hope I'm not behind in Transfi— what did you say, Harry? Sorry."

Ron interrupted them. "No—I left my books in my dormitory!"

"I'll take your bag," Harry said quickly, much to Ron's relief.

"Thanks, mate, I'll meet you guys in class." He rushed away.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's absentmindedness.

"Er, can I have a word?" Harry repeated.

"Of course. You don't need to ask. Wait—we can walk together, we've got a double of History of Magic next—with the Slytherins, that is, and we can talk on the way."

"Right." Harry stammered. "Er, er—" It was hard to start with the fact that what he wanted to say was stuck in his throat. "Listen, I know you're okay and everything, but why did you backfire a spell on yourself?"

Hermione blinked at him. "Harry, that's just it, I-I don't know. I guess, well," She looked away. "I was a little down the other day, and I well, wanted to cover myself up."

"With what, a Subdue Spell?"

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "Let's not talk about this."

"O-okay." Harry said, awkwardly, seeing the crestfallen look on her face.

"Of course, you know what happened, right?" Hermione shot him a nervous glance as they clambered up a flight of stairs. "I mean, I know I was in a state, and I was unconscious. Wasn't making much sense was I? It was all my fault." Harry grew quiet. He didn't know how to answer her. He felt rather guilty.

"It doesn't matter now, it happened two days ago."

Hermione put on a weak smile. "Besides, I've seen worse, right? The bubotuber pus last year?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, that was weird."

Even Hermione's concentration in class wavered from Professor Binns' droning about medieval giant rituals and paranormal phobias. Harry, usually sitting in the back seat with Ron, had his head in his arms, and he was aware of his own eyelids drooping. He was tired…and suddenly…he was cut off from the presence around him.

Harry never remembered being so cold. He felt his veins freeze, and his spine turn into ice. He was surrounded by pitch black, and by squinting his eyes he could barely make out a distant green light miles away. Without a choice, he started to amble towards the so of luminosity. His breath was coming out in damp, white puffs, and hollow noises were springing up from the dark walls around him.

After a long time, he reached the glow, and realized it was coming from behind a scraggly wood door. The intense light was shooting out from behind him. Drawing in a deep, chilly, breath, Harry turned the knob. Blinding light shot at him, a thousand glowing—

"Harry! Get up! Professor, he's unconscious!" He heard Hermione saying. He lurched up, clutching his chest, panting heavily.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked. She put a hand on him, and quickly drew it away as if he were dangerous. "Harry, you're freezing cold!"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that," Harry muttered as he struggled to get up. He was aware that all the Gryffindors and Slytherins were watching him. Professor Binns was looking quite perturbed.

"What happened?" he asked.

Harry was about to open his mouth to speak, but Malfoy answered for him.

"He had another dreadful nightmare, Professor." He sneered, and clutched his heart. " 'Help me! Help me! You-Know-Who's out to get me again!'" Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of the Slytherins laughed with him.

Harry clenched his jaw stiffly, and glared at him. Hermione and Ron were by his side, looking fear-stricken.

"What's really going on, um, Mr. Potter?" Professor Binns questioned, looking agitated that there was a disruption in his long lesson.

"He had a delusion. May I escort to the Hospital Wing, Professor?" Hermione asked before Harry could speak again. He couldn't understand why no one would let him talk. He still wasn't able to get up.

"V-very well, then, Miss er, er—"

"Granger, professor."

"Right, now. You may take him away. And if he'll be gone for long, you might as well take his books too." Professor Binns put on a strict face. "It's over, students! Get back to your seats!"

Ron slumped away, looking envious of them two. Even Malfoy, who was trying hard to hide it, had meant to have Harry stay the rest of the class as so he could ridicule him. Instead, he was going to miss the most uninteresting class in school.

"C'mon Harry," Hermione took his bag as he slowly got up. "Let's go," She pushed him gently, and they left the classroom. Once they were out in the hall, Harry turned to face her.

"I don't need to go the Hospital Wing! I'm fine, why couldn't you just let me explain for myself? I don't need to see Madam Pomfrey. M-my scar wasn't really hurting this time!"

"But V-Voldemort—"

"He wasn't in my dream!" Harry exclaimed. "No one was, he wasn't—"

"Then why…?" Hermione looked delirious. "Why were you on the floor, and you were clutching your…"

"I don't know why either, but it happens all the time, doesn't it? All I know is Voldemort wasn't in it this time! I don't need to go anywhere!"

"Yes you do." Hermione said quietly. "Dumbledore…"

"Dumbledore isn't here anymore, and I obviously can't send him a letter because the owl post is being watched!"

"I know that!" Hermione cut in impatiently. "But I was meaning to say that Dumbledore would have wanted you to keep up your Occlumency. You should see Snape—"

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione!" Harry never remembered being so uptight with her. He was beginning to sound like Ron. "Are you on my side or not? See Snape, that's loads worse…Occlumency isn't helping at all. You think Snape will really want to teach me? Maybe he wants me to have a connection with Voldemort! He was a Death Eater too, wasn't he? Probably wants me dead!" He stopped, panting angrily and glaring at her.

Hermione turned away, and Harry caught a glimpse of her tears. However he didn't feel bad this time. Hermione would never understand how it felt to be possessed by Voldemort. Ron too. All they could do was suggest him go to Snape, take Occlumency, see Dumbledore—it didn't work that way. It was more complicated.

"I still think you should see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly and turning around to face him. "You got excused from class, after all."

"No, you got me excused,"

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Harry, what did I ever do to you?" There was a long silence in which Harry, for the first time, suddenly started to soften towards her. She bit her lip. "I guess I'll go back to class. I-I—" But Harry grabbed her arm.

"I didn't really mean all of that," The words came out quietly, before he could stop himself from admitting what was in his heart, not daring to look at her. He quickly dropped his grasp. He noticed Hermione touch her arm where he had just seized her.

"T-That's okay. I know you think I c-can't…" Her voice wobbled. "..that I can't possibly imagine what it's like to see through the eyes of Voldemort, and be there in your dreams. Sometimes, I wish I could…honestly Harry. I know it's hard for you. I'm sorry too. Sometimes I speak before I think. I didn't mean to make you mad." This time she sped back towards the History of Magic classroom, and Harry didn't stop her.

He hated the way his tempers got hold of him, and the way Hermione always put the blame on herself. It was different from when she quarreled with Ron. With them, they were always stubborn, and would never admit their wrongs, even stopped talking to eachother for days sometimes. But whenever he started a fight with her, she always seemed to apologize to him whenever she noticed his temper rising. That's why he never remembered having too many arguments with her. It was always different.

Shaking his head, which was still prickling if not severing in pain, he headed towards the nearest broom closet. By no means did he feel like visiting the hospital wing every time a little thing happened. He was going to hide in the closet till the next class started. By no means, either, did he wish to stay in class hearing Professor Binns droning on to no end.

A/N: If you have gotten this far...why not review and tell me what you think? Reviewing will help me get to know my readers, as well as read others' writings as well. I welcome comments and accept constructive criticism...please...if possible...no profanity of any kind, as it would be disturbing or offending. Thank you.