Chapter Seventeen

Heartache

Harry woke up and wished he was back to being unconscious. His muscles ached and he was doubly tired than before. He admonished himself for losing control when Ron was also at the bursting point of his rage. Their tempers together were dangerous enough to kill them. It didn't really help matters as it was. He and Ron were sure to get it from Mrs. Weasley later and Hermione would go away tomorrow thinking they hated her for it.

Harry watched a framed picture of the three of them on Ron's table next to the bed where he lay. He focused on Hermione who was smiling as she held one arm around his waist and the other on Ron's. It was taken during Christmas at the common room in sixth year—the last carefree holiday they had before the war turned their lives upside down. He remembered that after the picture was taken they all looked up and discovered a sprig of mistletoe hanging above them. He and Ron looked nervous but Hermione giggled and gamely kissed them both on the cheek. He could still feel that kiss. It was just like the kiss she first gave him at the end of fourth year, but somehow it felt different to Harry. He felt warmer and tingly inside. After that, his eyes seemed to follow her more often than he used to. He liked having her close and he felt funny when she sat a little closer to Ron than usual. He tried to dismiss it—it wasn't hard considering he always had a lot on his mind—but he knew that he was quite aware Hermione was a girl, a very pretty girl whom he cared a lot about, in more than a platonic way.

He wasn't blind to Ron's affection for her. He knew it as early as fourth year. And when he shared Ron's body, it was even more evident in the way Ron's heart pounded faster when she touched them or the way his eyes lingered on her whenever she wasn't looking. Harry was partly thankful that Ron felt about her that way. At least, whatever feelings Harry had for her would pass off to Ron as his own feelings. His best mate never knew the difference and Harry preferred to keep it that way. He was assured Ron would never have the courage to tell Hermione what he felt, and Harry had no intention of saying anything either. He was content to admire her from afar with Ron.

The door opened and Ginny came in.

"So you're awake," she said icily. She flashed him a harsh look. "Mum sent me up. She's waiting with dinner and a couple of harsh words for you two."

"It's just Harry, Ron's still asleep," he explained.

Ginny didn't change her expression. She was so used to him by now she treated him like one of her brothers. "Wake him up then."

"I can't do that. I don't know how."

That was one thing he and Ron never really figured out. They couldn't understand how one of them can be awake while the other was unconscious at the same time. It wasn't physically rooted, as Hermione explained to them, they were sharing one body and so they should both either be asleep or awake at the same time. But on the rare occasions that it did happen, it was always when they were physically or mentally strained. Perhaps it was one of those times where the body was still capable of consciousness, but only one of them was strong enough mentally to keep awake. It only occurred from several minutes to as much as a few hours after which even the conscious one eventually dropped off to sleep.

"It's not like I can wake him by shaking or screaming at him," he explained to Ginny. "He has to wake up on his own."

"Well, go on down there. At least one of you gets to eat." She turned around and marched back down the stairs, muttering about bloody idiots trying to kill themselves.

Harry found Mrs. Weasley waiting for him in the dining room. Hermione wasn't there and none of the other Weasley siblings were either. He figured they had steered clear of this one, knowing what was to come.

As predicted, Mrs. Weasley gave him a mouthful over his steak and boiled potatoes. He didn't say anything, not even to tell her Ron wasn't there. He hoped Ron was grateful to him for this. She didn't give any punishment—he and Ron were, after all, adult wizards—but she made him feel extremely guilty for their suicidal flying and hurting Hermione.

When it was over, Harry trudged up back the stairs. He paused at Ginny's floor and listened to the slightly opened door. He could hear sniffles inside and Ginny's soothing voice.

He couldn't stand it anymore. She was leaving tomorrow and the least he could do was let her know he wasn't mad. He pushed open the door.

"Ron? Harry?" Hermione called, she wiped away her tears.

"It's just Harry. Ron's still out. Can I talk to you?"

Ginny made her way out and closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I should have but you were so excited about Auror exams, I didn't have the heart to say it."

Harry shook his head and sat down next to her on Ginny's bed. "Never mind that. You had to go sometime. Don't worry about it. Just owl us everyday and see us on your vacation." He held out a hand in peace. Hermione took it and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Thanks Harry. I hate to go with you angry at me. You think Ron's… is he still mad?"

"Well… er," Harry wasn't sure. Ron's last words were that he hated her and knowing Ron, he was the kind who could be angry for a long time. But he didn't want Hermione to know that. "He'll come around."

Her face fell. "I just wish I could say goodbye to him. I'm going to miss you both. Promise me you won't get yourself killed in training."

"I'm already dead," Harry mumbled. Hermione sniggered at the unintended pun.

"I mean don't get Ron's body killed. I want you both alive. I hope you get a new body soon. I know the Ministry is against us and law enforcement's preventing Dementors from getting new victims by containing the creatures. But I'm hoping—not without feeling guilty—that some idiot would run across one so you could live again. Maybe I'll find one in Asia. Dementors do exist there."

"Well I hope it isn't too much of an idiot," said Harry. "But I'll take an idiot any day to a girl. Please, Hermione, if you find one, hope that it's a male body."

"I don't know," she smiled slyly. "It may be nice to have a girl friend named Harriet."

"Hermione!"

"I'm kidding," she laughed. "We'll look for a boy. It will be too weird if you end up a girl, since you do fancy girls and… okay we are not going there." She blushed and Harry noticed how the color highlighted her face in a nice way. She wasn't pretty like Cho Chang or a head-turner like Fleur, but there were moments—casual instances like these when she appeared so beautiful to him. He studied her carefully, taking note of her features partly hidden by her bushy hair. He reached out a hand and pulled back a stray lock out of her eyes and placed it behind her ear. He let his finger linger there for a moment as his eyes locked with hers.

"What is it?" she asked.

Harry pulled her into an embrace. She hugged him back. He took it as welcoming sign. He drew her closer and buried his face into her wild mass of curls. Her scent was so intoxicating Harry was completely lost in it. He brushed his lips on her forehead and savored the feel of her skin. But she pulled away and abruptly ended his moment of bliss.

"Well it's late. Ginny may want to have her room back. You better get some rest too," she said.

Harry felt a bit hurt at being dismissed but there was nothing to do but go back to Ron's room. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes, I want you there with me to the portkey site. Goodnight, Harry and congratulations again."

"Thanks. Goodnight, Hermione." He gave her one last lingering look and sadly turned away.

Ron found himself sitting up in bed with the picture frame of him, Harry and Hermione clutched in his hand. He put it back down on the table.

"Harry?"

No answer. He figured Harry must be asleep.

He checked their watch. It was almost midnight and he wasn't famished as expected, but was still longing for an extra bite of food. He knew Harry had been awake before to eat and wished he was too. He felt Harry didn't eat enough.

He stole down into the kitchen, intent on getting a sandwich. He found a few pieces of bread and some leftover meatloaf and helped himself to it along with a glass of milk. He was halfway through his meal, when he noticed a light on in the living room. Glass and sandwich in hand, he peered to see if anyone was still up.

"Ron?" He knew it was her before she came into his line of vision. She was sitting on the floor by the coffee table, with a quill in her hand and a piece of parchment. She was in her dressing gown and pajamas and the small light cast on one of the lamps made her pleading eyes sparkle. He wanted to smile at that vision but he remembered he was still angry at her.

"Ron?" she repeated imploringly.

He wished she hadn't seen him. He didn't want to make up just now but he didn't want to get into a row either. He had an idea.

"It's Harry."

"Oh," she looked disappointed.

He figured he might as well play the part. At least he could say goodbye to Hermione without apologizing.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She put her quill down. "I don't know if I'll have a chance to say goodbye to Ron in person. I don't know if he'll want to talk to me. If he doesn't want to, I'll leave him a letter."

Ron sat next to her and peered into the parchment. She hadn't made it past the 'Dear Ron.'

"Please make sure he reads it. Make him understand why I have to do this."

"I think he already understands why you're doing this. It's just that part about you not telling us that gets to him. It's like you don't care about your friends anymore that you have to keep it from us until the last minute," Ron said with a hint of sarcasm before he could stop himself.

"That's not true," she eyed him carefully. "I do care about you. I've always have. Sometimes I'm just so scared of telling you that I keep delaying. It's the same with my parents. But believe me when I tell you, I have all the best intentions. It's just that circumstances change. We have to grow up."

"Even if it means growing apart?"

"Yes," Hermione said sadly. "But that doesn't mean I won't be your friend anymore."

Hermione laced her fingers with his and her thumb began moving up and down his index finger. She seemed lost in thought, fascinated by their interlocked hands.

"Do you think Ron can forgive me?"

Ron smiled at her though she wasn't looking at him. "Yeah, he will, Hermione. He cares about you too."

"Does he?"

"I'm sure of it. And he'll probably say goodbye to you in person tomorrow before you leave."

"Thanks," she murmured. She turned to him with a half-bewildered, half-curious expression. Her eyes moved across his face, as if memorizing his features. A sudden tiny smile appeared at the corners of her mouth and he realized she was counting his freckles.

Good luck counting all of them, he was about to comment. But the words died on his lips when she cupped her hand against the side of his face. The contact sent tingles down his spine. But it was nothing compared to the feeling when she trailed a finger on his scar.

"Does it hurt?" she whispered.

"No," he gasped.

Her touch was agonizingly sweet. He closed his eyes to feel every inch of it. And when he opened them, he found her gaze so overwhelmingly full of affection. Her hand lingered at his neck where his scar ended. Ron covered her hand with his own and he felt her draw closer. He could feel her warm breath from her slightly parted lips and knew from her gaze of her deep longing.

She thinks I'm Harry! The realization came to him like a blow. Oh Merlin! She's looking at me like that and she's seeing Harry, not me! She's in love with Harry!

Ron pulled her hand away from his neck and stood up, hurt welling up his chest. "I think you better go," he managed to say evenly.

If she was disappointed, she hid it well. "You're right… I should go back to bed. She collected her quill and parchment and started up the stairs. She paused on the third step and turned around.

"Thanks for understanding. Goodnight… Ron."

She ran up the stairs. Ron watched her for several minutes, not trusting what he just heard.

She said 'Ron'? She knew it was me! She wasn't thinking of Harry at all. It was me she wanted!

Ron was so overjoyed he actually hopped around for another minute or two before he remembered something: He had to tell her! Now, while he still had the chance to be alone with her!

He jumped to follow her up the stairs. In his excitement, he forgot to watch where he was going. He stepped into a trick step, twisted his ankle and crashed five steps down.

"Oww!" he groaned at his injured legs.

"What in heaven's name?" his mother's voice asked in the darkness of the floor above. Her face and his father's appeared.

"Are you trying to kill yourselves again?" she asked sternly.

Ron tried to get up but he realized his ankle wasn't holding up and sat back down on the floor. He let out a curse.

"Language!" Mrs. Weasley admonished, though she kept her voice down so it wouldn't wake the whole house. "Now what are you two doing?"

"It's just Ron. I just fell down the stairs. It's not like I did it on purpose. I think I sprained an ankle."

His mother pulled out her wand and levitated him to a couch. His father disappeared back into his room.

"I'm no good at healing sprains, Mum. Could you heal it?"

Mrs. Weasley eyed him suspiciously. "So you can run around and give me more nerves after what you did this afternoon? No, not tonight. You can stay there until tomorrow."

"But I need to talk to Hermione," he reasoned.

"Do it tomorrow. You're not getting her out of bed at this ungodly hour. She needs her rest before she leaves tomorrow."

"But Mum."

"Goodnight, Ronald."

She marched up back and Ron lay back on the couch extremely frustrated. For several minutes he huffed angrily, until he calmed down a bit and began to think.

If I could go up there, what would I say? 'I like you too, Hermione?' Then what? Would she stay here?

She wouldn't, of course. Besides, what would happen to them if she knew he felt the same? Would they start a long distance relationship, write love letters then wait until she came home during break?

He thought about holding her hand, kissing her—maybe even more—and realized that if he did that, Harry would be doing that to her too. The mere thought sent waves of jealousy inside him. It wasn't like they could sneak around Harry to do that. They had no idea when the next time he could be awake and Harry was asleep would come. And if she could only come home twice a year, the chances of being alone were likely to be nil.

Bloody hell! It simply won't do! Better that she didn't know anything at all. Nothing good would come of it if she knew. We'll just end up being both frustrated and we'll be risking our friendship on a chance with no assurance of us ending up together, Ron thought before he closed his eyes to rest. His last thought before he finally drifted off was that he hoped Harry appreciated what he was doing for him.

A/N: I know I'm tip-toeing the line of Harry-Hermione ship. Let me just assure everyone that I will be keeping this story R/H. But I need Harry to have feelings for Hermione as an added twist. You'll find out why in the last few chapters. As for Hermione's feelings, the next chapter will clear it up.