Chapter 6: Running High

He was faking. Of course he was faking. Hermione knew that he was doing this to get sympathy and attention. But all the same, he was lying so still. Could it be possible that she had knocked him out? The force she had packed into that slap…despite herself Hermione grinned, and tried to suppress a giggle as she saw the red handprint of her actions begin to appear on his cheek.

"I have such small hands." She muttered to herself as she placed her hand against the mark. She drew it back quickly as his eyes snapped open.

"Don't touch me." Malfoy growled, sitting up quickly.

"Look. I'm sorry! For God's sake, leave me alone Malfoy! You follow me down here, you come to spy on me, and then you insult me. What is wrong with you?" Hermione had stood up and was now gathering her belongings angrily. Now that she was not inside the circle, Draco realized you could see all the possessions she had left there. He wondered why he'd never seen them all the other times he had been down there. Possibly because he had never cared.

"I wasn't intending to 'spy' on you. I came down here to think. Surprise surprise, you aren't the only one hard done by here."

"Oh get over yourself Malfoy! Just because you couldn't get 'Daddy' to buy you Head Boy… 'Oh woe is me! I'm poor little pureblood Malfoy! Look how hard everything is for me!" Hermione spat back at him. There was a horrible silence as they glared at each other, waiting for the first move.

"You have no idea." He finally sighed, before turning his back on her. He set off towards the back of the cavern. Hermione watched him disappearing down one of the tunnels and felt an overwhelming urge to run after him and apologise. She returned to collecting her belongings.

She could not work out why he got her so worked up. She did little, if nothing, to provoke him, yet for years he had been calling her…that name, despite her display in third year. Although now that she came to think about it, he had more or less left her alone for the last three years – tormenting Harry in fourth year, Ron in fifth, and just generally avoiding them all in the sixth. She assumed it was because of the war finally coming to an end.

"She wasn't in her room last night."

Ron looked at Harry, confused. He had noticed his friend acting a little oddly recently, but he'd put it down to Harry's lack of 'playing the hero'. He knew that Harry was never happier when he was rescuing. And now he was talking about a girl? Ron thought that he'd have had enough after the hysterics of Cho. Yet now Harry had been in a girl's room. At night.

"Who wasn't mate?"

"Hermione." Harry had made his way up to her room the previous evening in order to apologise and, perhaps, see how she felt about him. But she had not been there, even though he had waited for her all night, and had woken up in her empty bed in the morning.

"Why were you in her room?"

Harry looked at his feet. "I had to talk to her about something that happened on the train. Something I…did."

"What. Did. You. Do." Ron spoke like he was talking to a four year old. He had a pretty good idea of what happened, and it would explain why Hermione had been avoiding the both of them for the last week.

"I kissed her." Ron smiled to himself. At least Harry admitted it.

"Don't worry about it mate. You two will sort it out, whatever the outcome. In fact, you can talk to her now.

Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole, her arms full of the blankets and candles she had brought back from her cave. She hesitated slightly at the sight of Harry and Ron, before her gaze slid away form them and she carried on walking past them. However, Harry ran up to her and caught her arm, not noticing her flinch.

"We need…I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere private?" Hermione held his gaze for a minute before glancing at Ron. She saw him nod imperceptibly.

"We can go to my room. I have to drop off things there anyway. But…" she looked at Harry and could not help but notice a flash of hope in his eyes. "No funny stuff."

"Of course not." Harry looked as innocent as he looked when they had first arrived at Hogwarts.

Ascending the steps to Hermione's room, Hermione kept Harry in front. Despite her long robes, and his wide-eyed promise, she knew exactly where those eyes would be fixed if he went behind. She waved her wand on the top step and her door swung open. The layout was exactly the same as Harry's. One bed, sans curtains, one cupboard, one chest of drawers, and one door leading to a small bathroom. Even the red and gold décor was the same, but it was neater than his own, and he realized it even smelled different.

It smelled of Hermione; her scent as distinct and as individual as a fingerprint. He smiled and moved from the doorway to allow her entrance.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened on the train. I wanted to…I felt that…It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but it obviously wasn't. I just wanted to comfort you." He said desperately.

"I know."

"Right. So. I guess all I'm really trying to say is that you are my best friend, and I can't help my feelings but I don't want to ruin our friendship." By this point they had sat down on the bed and Harry moved his hand to cover Hermione's. She stiffened slightly and looked at him sternly.

"Harry, I told you. No funny stuff." He took his hand away. "I know you have feelings for me, but I can't return them. You are just a friend to me Harry. Well, no, that's not right. You are more like a brother. But nothing more! And I can't sit here knowing that you are looking at me in a different light. So maybe we shouldn't be around each other so much anymore." His face grew darker as her small speech progressed.

He thought she was going to say that she did indeed feel the same, or at least similar, to how he did. Yet she snubbed him, and told him that not only that they couldn't be together as lovers, but they couldn't even be together as friends.

"But I want to see you! I want to touch you, I want to kiss you, I want to take you…"

"Harry, shut up!" Hermione's eyes were blazing. "Shut up and get out! How dare you speak to me like that! I don't want to see you until you get over this, until you get over me. Now get out!" She slammed the door after him and listened to his receding footsteps before she threw herself down on the bed. Why did things have to become so complicated?