Disclaimer: I don't own "Harry Potter" or anything associated with it that you recognize.

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long to get up here, but I polished it up only this morning. I've been working on an original screenplay for the past few days.

Anyway, I got such fantastic reviews for the past three chapters (especially the last, particularly 'evil' one (lol!)) that I decided to go with my Plan B for this story, which is to extend it just a little more instead of ending it on Chapter 13. I don't know whether this will work or not, but with 107 favourites, I think this story is popular enough to be given a chance to run a complete length… enjoy!

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Kiss of the Traitor

Chapter Thirteen: Female Psyche

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It was perhaps two or three days later that Hermione got out of bed again. Harry reflected on the events of that morning with a mixture of amusement and horror. Ron, who was supposed to be beside her, had left her bedside for five minutes to go to the bathroom, and when he emerged out again, he found her bed empty.

Needless to say, Ron's reaction had been extreme.

He'd let out a shriek that had brought a sleeping Hagrid out of a nearby room, and then, completely ignoring Hagrid, he had thundered straight into the fireplace in the den, after having panicked Sirius's portrait all over again, and gone to the Burrow via Floo Powder.

In the space of ten minutes, Harry, who was just down the road buying cranberry sauce for Christmas pie, had been alerted; Lupin and Tonks had been alerted; Hagrid had informed Professors McGonagall and Slughorn (Snape had gone out of the country for a few days) at Hogwarts; and the entire Weasley family and a battalion of Order of the Phoenix Aurors (Kingsley, Podmore and Moody to name three) had all been dispatched to Number 12, Grimmauld Place for emergency duty. They had all collectively rounded up Luna, who appeared to be unmoved by the entire proceedings, and Neville, who was trying to learn about Snorckleback Plants from her, and had all hustled into the spacious kitchen of Harry's house in order to have an emergency meeting about what could have befallen Hermione…

Only to find Hermione standing at the stove of the kitchen and roasting a massive turkey, staring at them all as if they had gone completely mad to come bursting into the kitchen like that.

"What?" Ron spluttered. "How did you get here?"

"I… walked…" said Hermione dubiously, obviously feeling that she was missing something. "Um… is something wrong… with everyone?"

"You shouldn't be out of bed!" Harry managed to say, so relieved he had wanted to faint.

Hermione eyed him. "Well… I… er… just wanted to do something nice. It's Christmas, you know, so I wanted to, you know, roast a turkey." She brightened. "I think there ought to be enough for everyone here, though, so if Mrs. Weasley could help me a bit, we might be able to cook up a splendid lunch for us all!"

It hardly took a stretch of imagination to assume that Ron was not very popular that morning.

Two days later, Hermione looked like she was getting better, but her overall health was not improving. As Lupin sombrely informed Harry, he didn't think she was going to last many more weeks unless something was done. However, every time Harry attempted to broach the subject with Hermione, she avoided it like the plague and even came to the point where she seemed to be avoiding being alone with him. It only increased his despair and frustration.

"I don't get it!" he fumed that afternoon after Lupin's dire pronouncement (Hermione was safely out of earshot in the attic with Ginny, looking for some old books that had belonged to Sirius's family). The only ones in the room were Tonks, Lupin, Ron and George (who didn't look like he was paying much attention because he was trying to catch lacewing flies off the window curtain). Harry went on in frustration. "Look, I know she cares about me – for heaven's sake, she tried to save my life at such risk to her own! And while that shows very little regard for her own life, surely she wants to live! Why is she avoiding me? Why is she avoiding the subject that could very well save her?"

"Harry, old boy," said George from the window, rather absently, though it would appear that he was at least half-listening, "Maybe she's afraid to live."

"Merlin's beard, that's too deep for me," Ron said, thumping his head with his hand.

"You shock me," said Harry impatiently, turning back to George, "What on earth do you mean?"

George wasn't looking at them; he was focused on the lacewing flies, but he answered quite lucidly, and they were all listening intently. "I'm just saying, mate, that Ginny told me a couple days ago that she tried to impress upon Hermione that she's got to trust you if she wants to live. That in itself could imply that Hermione would rather die than trust you – "

"Thanks."

"Don't be ridiculous, George," said Lupin with a frown.

George chuckled. "Yeah, I didn't think that was it either, but I figured I ought to mention it anyway. Couldn't resist, you know. Aha! Caught one at last! No, what was I saying? Oh, yeah… well, Hermione's a smart girl, Harry, we all know that. She probably figured out, from what Ginny said, that the cure to her sickness involves a huge sacrifice on your part. Maybe she doesn't know or guess what it is, but she probably feels that she can't let you sacrifice anything for her. I just think she might feel that way if she really loves you, which no one doubts she does."

"You know," said Tonks excitedly, cutting Harry off before he could explode in disbelief and agitation, "I think George might actually have something there! Because, you know, Harry, seeing as how much she loves you, she would never be able to stomach the thought of your having to sacrifice any part of your life for her. Considering what you told me about the encounter with Dolohov, I'd say it makes perfect sense!"

"Does it?" growled Harry. "Then do elaborate, would you?"

"Don't you see?" said Tonks in the voice of one speaking to a very small and dull child, "Hermione cried out 'I won't let you die for me, Harry' and she killed him before he could hurt you, knowing fully well that she could be killed in the process. Remus says it was a miracle she survived. So I'm just saying that Hermione probably feels that if you and she… you know… get together again, which you would undoubtedly do if you saved her life, then she would never be able to live with herself because you might risk yourself for her again. Do you understand what I'm saying? Hermione probably feels that she would rather die than see you hurt on her account. In any way."

Harry exploded. "But – but that's ridiculous!"

"You've got to take into account that the whole betrayal thing three years ago damaged her emotionally and has made her very scared of trusting you, and of letting you down again," Tonks said with an air of wisdom.

Ron stared at Tonks with fascination and curiosity. "You're almost as good as Hermione is!"

"Woman's prerogative," said Tonks, winking.

"I don't believe this," said Harry grimly, "I mean, what? Does the woman want blood on a scroll? A Christmas present with my heart in it? What more can I do to make her see that I would never hurt her again? You know what? Forget that! If I understand you right, that's not even the problem! Now she's afraid of losing me because she thinks I would risk myself for her under any circumstances!"

"Wouldn't you?" said Lupin shrewdly.

"Well, yes, but – "

"So she's afraid of getting involved with you, of letting you love her, of letting herself love you," said Tonks triumphantly. "It's quite understandable. I know I'd feel that way if Remus was constantly throwing his life on the line to save mine. You ought to be flattered, Harry. She values your life more than hers."

Harry sank down into the chair and buried his face in his hands. "But my life means nothing if I don't have her, if she isn't around. I can't watch her die. I can't."

"Very noble of you," said George, catching another lacewing fly, "If only she was as moved as I am by that declaration."

"Oh, go do something useful," Ron said to his brother, "You're not exactly helping."

"I'll be off in a few minutes, Ronniekins, not to worry."

Lupin put a reassuring hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, don't give up. You know that's the one thing you mustn't do. We'll save her. There has to be a way to make Hermione understand that her love and yours matter more than your individual lives. Because love is life, Harry. Hermione's been so long without it, being afraid of being hurt by it, that she's forgotten that. You can't blame her for that."

"But what can I do? I mean, the woman keeps finding new excuses for us to be apart!"

Tonks' eyes suddenly lit up (literally; they turned golden) and Harry and Ron exchanged wary looks at the sight of this familiar phenomenon, which usually spelled imminent disaster. "I know what you ought to do, Harry! See, our goal is to make Hermione realize that she cares more about loving you than about hurting you, or being hurt by you. So you've got to make her realize that she wants to live just so that she can have you!"

"And how," demanded Harry, "Do you make someone realize that they want you enough to want to live in spite of all their hang-ups?"

"Well, you've got to make her see that she can't have you!"

There was absolute silence in the kitchen for a moment. The men were gaping at Tonks. Even George let a lacewing fly slip through his grasp and turned right around to look at her in amazement. After a long while, apparently perceiving that not one of them were able to react to such a statement, Tonks began to explain:

"Jealousy, Harry! You've got to bring another woman home and flirt with her, and make sure Hermione sees you."

"That's madness!" George yelped. "Why, it'll only make her more depressed."

"Au contraire, my dear George. It'll motivate her to fight for Harry! You boys don't understand the female psyche; I, as a woman, do! There's nothing quite like jealousy to make a woman realize the truth about their own feelings and Hermione, as we all know, has a talent for jealousy. The moment Hermione sees you showing interest in somebody else, she'll realize that she wants to live so that you and she can love each other and Other Woman can be kicked out of the picture."

"This is beginning to sound like a soap opera," Ron remarked.

"Not at all," said Tonks briskly, "It's just a quick and effective remedy. Besides, we could all use some cheering up, Hermione included. A small dinner party might be just the thing. Provides the stage for your flirting, too. Nothing excessive, mind you, Harry. Just suggestions of interest. No kissing or cuddling."

"Don't worry," said Harry fervently, still feeling a little dazed. "I seem to recall Hermione feeling very hurt and betrayed after Ron here started making out with Lavender Brown in our sixth year. No way am I going down that road, I don't want to hurt her. Do you really think this will work?"

"Absolutely," Tonks told him confidently, "She'll see you with another girl and she'll realize how much she hates the thought of you with someone else. Trust me, Harry. Women are very easy to understand when you try hard enough."

But on this last bit, none of the occupants of the kitchen were able to agree with her.

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"What does he mean, a dinner party?" Hermione demanded, looking surprised as she stared at Professor McGonagall. "Harry's having a dinner party here? Tonight?"

"Apparently, he wants to have a youthful Christmas celebration," Professor McGonagall said with a voice that suggested she was torn between amusement and disapproval. "I just came to check on you, Hermione, and ask whether you feel you would be up to such high spirits? I don't mean to be harsh, but you're not exactly at your best."

Hermione laughed a little. "I know," she said, "I understand I don't have much longer left. I suppose I can appreciate that Harry's trying to make my last few weeks as pleasant and normal as he possibly can. It must be difficult for him, you know. We've known each other so long, it can't be easy to say goodbye to a… a friend." She stared off into the distance for a little while, and then said, "I want to thank you for everything you've done for me, Professor. You made my years at Hogwarts a reason to be proud of myself. You challenged me and made sure I rose to them, and I'm grateful for that."

When Professor McGonagall left the den, she was blowing her nose violently.

"You've got some nerve, you know," Sirius's voice said from behind Hermione, sounding part-angry and part-confused and part-amused in a Marauder kind of way.

Hermione turned towards him. Sirius was leaning against his portrait frame, arms crossed over his chest. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"'It must be difficult for him, you know. We've known each other so long. It can't be easy to say goodbye to a friend'." Sirius's mimicry was perfect. "A friend, Hermione? Lord, what's the matter with you? A friend? That's the level you've assigned Harry's feelings for you? Has it ever occurred to you that my godson would die for you?"

"Yes!" snapped Hermione, tears welling up in her eyes. "It has occurred to me, Sirius, and you know what? I'd rather pretend it isn't true, because it hurts me so much every time I think of Harry giving something up for me!"

Sirius's indignant face softened, and his grey eyes peered into hers. "Hermione, give yourself a chance."

"I'm not worth it, Sirius. And you know what? I'm not sure I'm capable of giving everything I have to him again. I gave it once and he threw it to the floor. I won't forget how much I hurt him, and how much he hurt me. What if that happens again? What if it happens again and we don't escape with our lives then? There are so many what ifs and I've lived so long along with my mind that it's hard to let my heart speak anymore!"

For a long time, Sirius stared at her, as if startled by this outburst. There was compassion in his stare and he smiled faintly as if he would have liked to hug her, but obviously couldn't. "I guess it's up to you to choose then," he said quietly, "Whether this time, you're going to go with your head or your heart. Maybe… maybe you just need someone to make you listen to your heart."

"Fat chance they'll have," Hermione said bitterly. Then she smiled. "I'm going to go upstairs, get ready for this dinner party thing. I'm tired of feeling so sick and weak."

"That's my girl. Go on and have some fun."

"I just hope I don't faint. I don't want to ruin this for everyone."

Sirius looked at her. She was pale and slightly wan, but still pretty. Yet her sickness was written all over her. Hermione wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see anything? She felt a pang of sadness as she remembered Sirius was dead… as a portrait, how much did he really have to offer those who were living? Did he feel as he once did? There was so much mystery to magic. So much mystery to the human heart. How did a man in a painting look at her with so much compassion? She gave him a smile, and he grinned back. "Hey," he said, "You ever thought of thinking of yourself for a change?"

Hermione looked startled, as if this was an unfamiliar thought.

She went upstairs, and searched through her closet for something decent to wear. She found herself thinking "pretty" even though it was ridiculous to actually care what Harry thought of her clothes. Nonetheless, when she pulled out a fitted blue dress she hadn't worn in ages, she realized it was for Harry.

She had a quick bath and came back into her room with a towel wrapped around her. She wriggled into underwear. The room was very hot suddenly, and she felt like her head was spinning.

'No,' she thought. 'Oh, God, no.'

The world went dark and blurry as she sank weakly to the ground, and lay slumped face forward on the carpet. The room became cold again, as if a biting wind was coming in, and she shivered rather uncontrollably, wearing nothing but underwear. She tried to get up, but found that she didn't have the strength to. A wave of hatred and bitterness passed over her. She hated Dolohov. She hated herself. She hated Harry, Ron and all the others for putting her here. They'd left her for three years with nothing but hate and bitterness. What did they want from her now?

But as soon as those traitorous thoughts entered her mind, they disappeared again, and she felt foolish and ashamed of herself. She still hated Dolohov, though, and she wasn't so fond of herself, lying there so weak and helpless. Nothing could be worse that dying now, when friends were arriving downstairs.

She was still lying there, pale and cold, when George found her five minutes later.

George had been sent up by Ron, who was busy looking for Luna, to see whether Hermione was going to come down. Alarmed by the fact that Hermione hadn't responded to his persistent knocking at her door, George had magically opened the door and marched in.

He uttered a foul word, and hurried to her side.

"Hermione! Hermione, look at me!"

He helped her up. Hermione stared at him and thanked him gratefully, then blushed crimson because she was half-naked. George didn't even blink. He helped her onto her bed, and helped her put her dress on.

"Maybe you shouldn't come downstairs to this stupid thing," he muttered.

"No, I want to."

"Fine," he chuckled, "Don't blame me later if you regret it!"

Hermione thought there was something very mysterious in his voice, but she didn't question it. Instead, she brushed out her hair. George stood like a vigilant bodyguard, leaning against the wall and twirling his wand between two fingers. She felt tears sting her eyes and she looked at him pleadingly before they left the room. "George, please don't tell Harry you found me like that."

He looked angry. "Do you want to die, Hermione? Because you will if you don't let Harry in!"

Hermione immediately felt herself shut off. She swallowed. "It's not your concern, George. Just please don't tell Harry. Do it for me, as a friend."

"I like that! You tell me it's not my concern that you may die, and then tell me to do you a favour as a friend! Here's something that may shock you, Hermione: it is my concern. It concerns every single one of us, from Fred to Mum to bloody Sturgis Podmore. These are people who care about you and care about Harry. You want to let them all down, let Harry down, but pricing your life so cheap? Fine, do it if you want. But that makes you a hypocrite because you once left us because we made the mistake of pricing your life cheaply!"

George, rather red in the face, his usual mischievous twinkle nowhere in sight, turned and marched away stiffly. Hermione watched him go, shaken to the very core. She had never seen George like that. She had never before realized what it would do to these people who cared, to Harry, if she was to give up.

'Listen to your heart, Hermione.'

If only her heart would whisper loud enough for her to hear what it wanted to say.

She squared her shoulders, forcing herself to stay strong and not crumble under the weight of everything that had ever hurt her or happened to her, and she walked down the stairs to where everyone was hanging about in the kitchen, den, and living room.

Fortunately, nobody reacted violently to her sudden appearance. People greeted her cheerfully when they saw her, and told her how glad they were that she was better. Hermione could tell they meant it. Neville handed her his untouched bottle of Butterbeer, ignoring her protests, and headed off to get another one for himself. Fred came up to her and, grinning, told her not to feel bad about what George might have said. Parvati told her that she was extremely impressed by the story of what happened with Dolohov. She said, quite bluntly, that it was incredible that someone so physically weakened by an awful illness could have produced such great magic. Hermione was very flattered.

Harry met her somewhere in the middle of the den, when Hermione went over to talk to Tonks and ask her about the baby's progress, and kissed her on the cheek, gave her a reassuring grin, and, to her amazement and slight annoyance, disappeared again almost immediately.

"Where's he going in such a hurry?" she asked no one in particular, a little irritated.

Tonks was grinning, but she hastily covered this up when Hermione looked back at her, and she said, with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes that puzzled the other girl, "Oh, you know, I think he wanted to go and greet Pansy Parkinson."

Hermione almost dropped her bottle of Butterbeer. "What? Since when are they friends?"

"Don't snap at me, Hermione. Pansy is rather pretty, and most of us may find her intolerable, but she did help us by providing information during the war, so I think Harry thought it was only decent to invite her tonight."

"But she's a malicious, spiteful, snobby little cat!"

"Maybe," said Tonks wisely, with an absolute air of understanding, "But she is rather pretty. And it's not just me, so don't look so incredulous. Harry agrees."

"Oh, does he?" said Hermione, feeling a bubble of indignant anger, her eyes flashing dangerously. "We'll see! Can you excuse me for a few minutes? I'll catch up with you a little later." She turned and stalked off, moving much like the Hermione of prior years.

Tonks began to laugh as soon as Hermione was out of earshot. Lupin, one of the oldest members at the party, was standing nearby and talking to Seamus. He came over when he heard Tonks laugh, and bent and kissed her. Tonks grinned up at him.

"It's working already!"

In the meanwhile, Hermione had marched out of the den and into the living room. She caught sight of Harry and Pansy Parkinson across the room, and was about to march across and demand to speak to Harry in private when she suddenly saw what he was doing. He was helping Pansy off with her coat. Hermione was furious. It was like… like… like if she were to buy Malfoy a drink! Pansy – ("that cow", thought Hermione viciously) – obviously flattered by Harry's attention, was batting her eyelashes and flirting blatantly. Harry's smile was a little forced as he laughed and chatted with her, but Hermione only noticed how much appreciative attention he was giving her.

Ron was close by, mixing himself a Butterbeer with a shot of Firewhiskey at the bar table in the corner. Hermione pushed past Terry and Ginny, who were watching Harry and Pansy in open disbelief, and stormed towards Ron and seized him by the sleeve. Ron spat out a bit of his new drink and looked at her.

"Aargh! What's the matter, Hermione?" he asked, looking baffled.

"Would you just look at Harry and that concussed troll Pansy Parkinson!" she fumed.

Ron looked at her in fascination, as if he was amazed by something, and then looked over at Harry and Pansy. Hermione could have sworn that Ron was fighting a mixture of amusement and disgust, but when Ron looked at her, he only shrugged and looked awkward. "Well, I guess he's just trying to make her feel welcome. Not many people like her."

"For good reason!"

"I agree with you, Hermione," he said hastily, obviously reading the danger signals, "But, Harry's a gentleman that way, you know."

"Gentleman! Hah!"

Hermione stormed away, and Ron stared after her, looking both anxious as well as amused. He was cornered by Ginny and Terry almost instantly, both of whom demanded to know what the devil Harry thought he was doing flirting with some Slytherin snob when Hermione was in the same room. Ron spent the next ten minutes defended his "cavalier" best friend, while wondering where his other best friend had disappeared to.

Hermione had, in fact, blazed through the den again towards the kitchen, which was the least crowded of the rooms. She passed Sirius's portrait on the way, and paused only to snap, "Your godson is a swine!" before marching past and entering the kitchen.

She stood near the window and watched the snow falling, wishing it would cool her down. She felt hot and bothered, but for some reason, she no longer felt sick. She felt rather like her old self, hot-tempered and angry and absolutely irritated with Harry for being such a moronic buffoon. She heard a sound near the door, and watched Harry approach her through a bunch of people. He reached for the fridge beside her, and pulled out a bottle of cola.

"Hi," he said, "You doing okay?"

Hermione eyed the cola with misgiving. "Who's that for?"

Harry seemed to hesitate, and then he said quite casually, "For Pansy Parkinson, she wanted – "

"Oh, so now you're at her beck and call?"

"Now, Hermione," Harry said, looking startled, "Don't get worked up. I know you don't like her much, but the least we can do is be friendly once in a while after everything she offered us during the war. I'm just being friendly to someone who has very few friends."

"Friendly? Friendly? That's hilarious, Harry, it really is."

He peered at her. "Are you… jealous?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" she snapped.

"Look, why don't you sit somewhere and calm down? Really, I'm just trying to be nice, that's all. I'll go give her this cola and then I'll come back and we'll talk, all right?"

Hermione glowered at him. "Please don't on my account."

Harry frowned slightly. "All right. Suit yourself."

He turned and made for the door. About halfway there, he stopped short in his tracks. Hermione caught sight of the person that made him freeze and she stared incredulously. A few other people in the room buzzed interestedly.

"Herm-own-ninny!" a voice yelled happily from the doorway of the kitchen.

Hermione looked at Harry's stupefied face, and then began to smile broadly. "Viktor!"

Harry nearly exploded in anger and disbelief.

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TBC.

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