A/N: This chapter took me a bit longer cause of coursework monopolising my time. I hope this is going in the right direction for your tastes ie. Angst and sexual tension. Marvellous things-but only in fiction. Neither are particularly pleasant in real life. Still no direct characterisation of Harry! I'm seeing how long I can keep it up. Love to all the people who bother to read this and review.

Coming soon! Draco and Ginny-but what will I be doing with them? I don't own them but I'm still playing around. Also more Sev. We loves Sev, my preciousssss...

"This has gone on long enough."

"Wha'...oh, yeah. Sorry." Ron dropped his head once again to stare morosely at the common room carpet.

"Ron!" Hermione's whole body as well as her voice was strained towards him, as if she might explode if he didn't end the chasm of silence between them. "We've got to get out of here and...just do something!"

He rubbed his fingers nervously over the worn pattern of the ancient rug, "Do what? We've no lessons 'til tomorrow."

With uncharacteristic violence, Hermione flung herself out of the armchair to stand over him where he sat on the floor. "Anything! Anything to just end this. This! This-atmosphere of guilt and...I don't know! We agreed to do this and we've got to carry it through but it's so frustrating!"

Ron regarded her uneasily at this intense outburst of emotion, unsure of his own feelings as of yet. "He's out at seeker practice isn't he?"

"Dammit Ron! He's our friend and we're supposed to be here for him but it's as if he's not there! I...I just feel like I'm trying to reaching out to him but he keeps slipping away."

Slowly Ron pulled himself to his feet from the floor in a manner suggesting he felt Hermione were a unicorn that might gore him if he provoked her. "So...let's go to the broom shed and join him in a bit."

"From anyone else that would have sounded like a, 'come on'."

There was something mildly accusatory about her tone. This was immensely confusing in Ron's mind. If someone like Seamus had said it he would be flat on his back by now in a leglocker. What the hell was she on about? He couldn't understand these cryptic things girls were forever saying. Ginny had once tried to explain and ended up so irritated she'd hexed him with almost everything she knew. "Does that mean we're going?"

Hermione stared at him with a sarcastic, 'what do you think?' expression before making her way over to the tapestry that hung on the swinging section of wall behind the Fat Lady's portrait.

On their way down they were ambushed subtly by Professor MacGonagall. "Just to let you two know there'll be a prefect meeting at lunch tomorrow. You'll be called to one side to discuss your extra undertakings." Seeing their faces fall at the euphemistic mention of their emotional betrayal of Harry she added sympathetically, "If either of you, well, feel it's too much you know I'm always here to support you as head of Gryffindor."

Hermione tried to smile and failed. Ron just nodded balefully. They couldn't find the words to described the way they felt even to themselves, let alone anyone else. To have to tell someone, even Dumbledore, everything Harry said or did that might give the slightest suspicion of a breakdown. To have to study and record what they thought he was feeling, every detail of his outward emotion. It was betrayal. They had to sit there trying to coax answers out of him while he raged and cried, not because they wanted to but because they had to. Of course they wanted to help him, but they knew he didn't want to dig it up, to bare his naked fears, the hurt, the loss. They knew sometimes he wished he had died. They knew. And they knew they had to pass this intimate knowledge on behind his back.

MacGonagall pressed her lips together as if she knew there was nothing she could say that would ease their consciences. "I'll see you in class tomorrow morning then."

By the time they reached the Quidditch pitch Harry had obviously left already, as the only person in the air was Draco Malfoy. Hermione laid a restraining hand on Ron's arm as the Slytherin seeker condescended to land rather than mock them from the air.

"If you were thinking a little 'ménage a trois' would cheer Potter up, he's in the showers drowning himself."

"Get bent, Malfoy."

"Last time you said anything like that, Weasel, you found yourself on the receiving end. If it's any consolation to you and your tiny mind, I am already as bent as a snake."

Draco took great amusement from Ron's expression as he worked this simile and its meaning out. He was less impressed by Hermione's response.

"Oh yes, Malfoy. We did think we saw someone who looked like you in a compromising position with one of the seventh years behind a bush the other day. To be honest it looked like he thought you were more pony than snake..."

He turned a snarl into a predatory grin, "So now we're all worldly wise, hey Granger? Still waiting for Weasel to remember he's got a cock though. I'll bet you've never even held hands..." Draco launched vertically to avoid a volley of hexes and sailed out of range still laughing and taunting.

Hermione stood perfectly still for a moment to compose herself, knuckles white as she gripped her wand to breaking point in fury. Why did everyone seem to realise apart from Ron? Sometimes she just felt like jumping him and jinxing him unconscious at the same time. Why couldn't he understand she wanted him? She knew he had to feel the same way but was too confused to realise all he had to do was say something. It was tearing her up inside. She needed someone who could let her let it all go, who would understand, who was there for her as she was for them. That someone could only be Ron.

She wasn't like Ginny who could skip blithely from one casual fling to the next across a sea of broken hearts; she wanted security, comfort, love. Love. Was it so much to ask?

She flung her head up defiantly and blinked back tears. "Let's go, Ron."

Quidditch practice appeared to have calmed Harry, but he was taciturn and introverted now perhaps from too much time on his own, too much time to dwell on things. They returned as a trio to the common room but it was as if something hung between all of them and silence proved predominant.

Even as the evening drew in the common room seemed dead. The warmth of the Gryffindor spirit that had once suffused it was now absent. Gryffindors no longer lingered to sprawl in the armchairs and gossip over chess but charged in and out with an air of having forgotten something or being lost. Talk was hushed but agitated. It was intolerable.

Supper was morose as even the more optimistic were dragged down by the prevalent mood. The hearty appetite diminished beyond belief of the staff who watched appalled as their students pushed their food around their plates. Hogwarts was depressed, Dumbledore pondered, uneasy in the pulsing heart of its student body. Uncomfortable truths had been accepted, the failings of the Ministry acknowledged. It had been a rude awakening. He knew everyone was praying it couldn't get worse. As it was, things were already worse than they could have foreseen.

I've no idea how long the next chapter'll take so just hang on if you're still with me.