A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys. I'm in a bit of a sad mood right now. I reread this story and am feeling incredibly dissatisfied. I like the plot idea, but I've made this story so completely dull that I don't think I'm doing the idea any justice. I feel like rewriting the whole story, but of course it's too late to do that now. Anyway, I'll try to make the story better.

Secrets

Chapter VII: Belated Birthday Message

"I can't believe Christmas vacation starts the day after tomorrow," I say to Harry, packing some of my clothes into my suitcase. "This year is going by so quickly."

Actually, that's a confusing statement. The days feel like they're taking twice as long as they usually do to end, but weeks and months feel like they're slipping away in minutes. It's difficult to explain.

"Yeah," he says, "I'll miss you over the holidays. I don't think I'll be able to take a whole week without you."

I turn my back to him and smile a bit sadly to myself. With everyday that passes he gets more and more tender. More and more mushy. It makes me sick. I like romance as much as the next girl, but Harry has never been the type to say loving comments all that often. Normally, he would have stopped his last words after "I'll miss you over the holidays." He wouldn't have added the rest.

"I'll miss you too," I lie.

Truthfully, I want Harry as far away from me as humanly possible for a while. I need to figure out how the heck I'm going to get him to want to leave me. Ron was right when he said that Harry would feel closer to me now more than ever after I told him I was ready for what he so badly wants. How am I supposed to make him not want me in less than two months? It doesn't feel possible.

I sigh.

I need Ron away from me for a while as well. Out of all the complications in my life right now, he's the biggest one. He just brings so many questions to my mind. For a few years now, I've been trying to figure out why I'm attracted to him. In the past, it used to irritate me only mildly that I liked Ron. Sometimes I would scold myself, reminded that Harry was the one I should feel that way for.

Still, I always kind of liked having a secret attraction for Ron. I liked feeling giddy around him, I liked blushing, I liked that he was forbidden. I guess I've always been the type to have fun just having a crush. Of course, as time passed, these thoughts began to get more and more serious and I often found myself putting them in the back of my head, deciding to ignore them altogether. I guess that wasn't the right thing to do, was it?

I should've come clean back then. Now everything's so screwed up. It feels like he and I have this separate relationship from everyone else in which all the rules that apply to couples apply to us. That's the way it's always really been. I always knew not to mention other guys in front of him. He always knew not to talk about other girls in front of me. When we did, things always got awkward. So we normally avoided that scenario altogether. We rarely ever had conversations about our serious romantic relationships with other people. Come to think of it we never did. Not until after I asked him to sleep with me. Then all we did was talk about me and Harry.

But now that we've gotten ourselves so wound up in a knot, he brings nothing but confusing debates to mind. I think he told me he felt the same way about me a while ago. He said if I had been single when we'd done it, everything would really have been perfect. If he didn't feel romantically towards me, why would he use the word 'perfect?' People don't use that word for one-night stands, do they? And he said it with such emotion. . .

But what if he just meant that we would've been free to have as much fun with each other as possible and have no remorse for it? What if he meant that it would've been perfect because we could have had sex and not worry about losing Harry? What if he was referring to the actual sex being perfect?

But I shouldn't be worrying about whether or not Ron loves me, I remind myself. He shouldn't be my main concern right now. Harry's the one I might lose forever in a few weeks' time, not Ron. And yet I still find myself dwelling more about my relationship with Ron than my dilemma with Harry. I know that's wrong, but I can't help it. Does that make me a terrible person?

Most of the time, I blame my incessant thoughts of Ron on love. Love is the most powerful emotion out there, isn't it? It makes people insane. Almost like the way superstitious people get when the full moon is out. They get crazy and bizarre. They don't act the way they would under the normal moon, on any other regular night. Ron drives me insane that way. It isn't my fault, is it? Love makes people obsessive, crazy, aggressive, angry, happy, sad, erratic, etc. All these emotions hitting me at once are bound to have questionable results, right?

It seems perfectly justifiable whenever I think about it like that.

But sometimes I question that conclusion. Friendship is supposed to be one of the strongest bonds, if not the strongest bond, people can have. So what excuse is there for me to have been such an awful friend? Is romantic love really that strong? No, it can't be. . .

I frown. Yes it can! Ron and I have been by Harry's side through thick and thin, bad times and good times, through the easy and hard. We've almost died for him countless times! It has to be something really strong that got us to betray him.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

I hear Harry's voice and whip around quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine!" I say cheerfully.

He looks at me hesitantly. "It's just that you've been twisting that shirt in your hands for the last five minutes."

I glance at the blouse in my hands and blush, feeling stupid. "I'm just thinking about something," I say, shaking my head.

"About what?" he asks, interested.

I shake my head again. "Nothing important," I say, "just something I want to talk with mother about."

"Oh," he says simply.

"So," I say, trying not to sound embarrassed as I turn back to folding my clothes, "are you looking forward to going to the Burrow?"

He nods. "Of course. I'm really excited about this new thing that Fred and George told Ron about. . ."

He goes on to explain about some new invention the twins have come up with, and I go back to packing. Okay, so all my clothes are set. Now I just need to pack my books and other belongings. I open up my trunk and examine its contents. Some of my school books are in there already. I see a few rolls of parchment and some ink bottles--

Suddenly I shriek with fright. Crookshanks took me by surprise and decided to leap into my trunk as I examined it.

"Crookshanks!" I exclaim, irritated. "Get out of my things!"

The cat scuttles for a moment and finds what he's looking for. He jumps out of my trunk with a bag of kitty treats in its mouth, turns his back to me, and proceeds to go under my bed to obviously indulge in his snack. The little pest!

"Oh, no you don't!" I hiss, going after him. I crouch down to my knees and look under bed to find him about to pop open the bag of treats with one of his claws. I quickly grab the bag, and he looks up at me, surprised. "You're getting too fat!" I say. "And you can't just give yourself these treats whenever you please! They're here so that I can give them to you when you behave like a good cat. Besides, you'll make a mess under my bed!"

He frowns at me, clearly displeased and strolls out from under my four-poster. I begin to get up when I notice a slightly dirty white envelope in the dark, near the wall. Curiously, I crawl in to retrieve it.

"What are you doing?" I hear Harry ask.

I grab the envelope and go out into the light. It's plain on one side. I turn it over and see an untidy scrawl with the message Happy Birthday 'Mione! written in the middle. It must be from Ron. I think back to my birthday and recall a white envelope attached to the photo album he gave me. I never read it. It must have fallen under my bed somehow. But how would it get there?

"Meow," I turn my head to see a grumpy-looking Crookshanks curling up in a cozy corner.

Humph. Must have been that nosey cat. Yes, it was, I confirm, noticing the teeth marks on the paper. I've got to get him out of that paper-chewing habit.

"What's that?" comes Harry's voice, startlingly close to my ear. I glance at him, over my shoulder and almost touch his face. He's looking over my shoulder at the envelope curiously.

"Just a birthday card from Ron," I say honestly.

"It doesn't look opened," he observes.

"I never got to read it," I tell him. "Crookshanks hid it under my bed."

"Oh," he says.

We stay in that position for a few awkward moments. I want to see what it says, but I don't want Harry to see. What if Ron wrote something incriminating in it? Well, maybe that'd be good. Then Harry would leave me. But no, I don't want him to find out this way.

"Well aren't you going to open it?" he asks, finally.

"Not with you breathing down my neck," I say, suddenly feeling very irritated. Harry could try to be a little more subtle about his need to spy on me.

"Sorry," he mutters, backing up away from me.

I wait until I make sure he's in a position he won't be able to read the letter from. When I'm satisfied, I open the envelope and pull out a piece of parchment covered in writing. Surprised that the letter much longer than I expected it to be, I begin to read it:

Dear Hermione,

Happy birthday! You finally turned the big 1-8. So now I guess you're an official adult everywhere, huh? I never told you this, but I think this birthday of yours is very special. I know I pretend to think that it's not as big a deal as you and Harry believe it is, but truthfully, I'm almost certain that I think this birthday is more important than either of you think.

But I don't think it's special because you're of age in both of your worlds, I think it's special because for a long time, especially last year, I wasn't sure you'd get to celebrate this one. Last year, when everything was at its worst I'd find myself wondering if any of us would live to see our next birthday. I constantly wondered about it, and every time the thought entered my head, I could feel myself getting more and more overprotective of you. I worried about Harry too, but I always worried about you a little more.

It seemed logical that you would be a target: they knew Harry had two friends and they knew you were the smart one, not to mention that they knew you were Harry's girlfriend. That's why I was so watchful over you last year. I know you thought I was suffocating you, but I really couldn't help it. I still can't sometimes. But I guess it was good that I worried so much because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have gotten so nervous and fidgety when the Death Eaters took you that night, and Harry wouldn't have realized you were gone, nor would he have rushed off to find you. So, you owe me one. I'm just kidding.

"Hermione?" Harry says tentatively, interrupting my reading.

I look up at him, my thoughts on the letter. "Yes?" I ask.

"I'm going to go out and practice some Quidditch," he says. "It's ten and I told Ron I'd meet him at the field."

I nod. "Okay, see you."

"I'll see you in a bit," he says, kissing me goodbye.

I look after him as he leaves and return back to Ron's card.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm thrilled that you've gotten to see this day. I know that sounds pretty bad, but I mean it. We could've all died last year, but miraculously, we made it. And I hope that we make it to the end together.

I really hope we do. After what happened between you and me in the summer, it seems a lot harder, but I have hope that everything will work out the right way. But it still seems hard. The year's barely just started and I'm already having trouble keeping my act together. There's just so much to think about, you know? There's so many scenarios that we have to take into account. I mean, what if Harry finds out? What if he doesn't forgive us? Will you and me still talk to each other? What if we stay friends, but never get what we want? What if we decide that we don't deserve to have what we want because of what we did to Harry? And what if Harry does forgive us? Can we have it then? And then what if he doesn't find out? There are just so many 'what ifs' to prepare for.

We're in for a rough time, 'Mione, but I'm willing to do whatever possible to make sure everything turns out right. We didn't fight so hard for a happy world to end up being miserable.

Happy birthday Hermione, and may you have many, many more to come.

With Love,

Ron

I finish reading the letter and breathe in deeply. I feel my heart thumping loudly and painfully against my chest. That wasn't what I had expected. I thought it was going to be a short and sweet happy birthday card identical to the others that I had received. But instead. . .it's truly meaningful. He put some actual thought into what he wrote.

I reread the letter. He spent last year worrying about me for my life, wondering how many days I had left, and doing everything possible to prevent anything terrible from happening to me. He really does care about me. I look at the signature. It says 'with love.' Maybe he really, really cares about me.

I read it again and again for a while. By the tenth time, I have questions. In his section about 'what ifs' he mentions "What we want" a couple of times. What does he mean? Is it what I think it means? My heart thumps louder against my chest. I can hear the pounding in my ears. Is he trying to tell me that he wants to be with me?

I shake my head. No. If he was trying to tell me that in a letter so willingly, he would have tried to tell me again. He's had plenty of time to do that. He gave this to me in September, after all. . . But what if he means something completely different? Is it normal for someone to put that in a birthday card?

I stay in thought for a while and make up my mind fairly quickly; the next time I see Ron, I'm asking him about it straightforward.

(L)(A)(T)(E)R

I scan the titles of the books from the shelves carefully one by one. I need a book that can tell me some extra history about Ancient Runes. That's my worst subject and according to my professor, we're in for a lot of work when we get back from Christmas break. None of these books are any good, though. I've already read all of them and my class status remains the same. Doesn't this library have anything else?

"Hermione!"

I turn around to see Ron jogging towards me with an anxious expression on his face. Madam Pince scowls at him as he passes her and calls my name again.

"What is it?" I ask worriedly. He looks quite uneasy. His brows are furrowed and he looks sweaty. Though, still handsome. I make a mental note to ask him about the letter after he tells me what's going on.

"Harry's been in an accident," he says breathlessly.

"What?" I say, alarmed. "Is he alright?"

He nods. "He's fine, yes, but he's hurt," he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the library. "He fell off his broom and landed badly on his leg and broke some bones."

I feel relief at these words. "Madam Pomfrey'll be able to fix that in no time," I say positively.

He shakes his head. "No, it's more complicated. I tried to help with it, because I thought I knew how, but I. . .I," he trails off and doesn't finish.

"You what?" I ask, feeling panic again.

"I pulled a Lockhart on him," he mumbles.

"What?" I ask confused.

He sighs. "I did the spell wrong and removed all his bones," he says miserably.

"Oh Ron," I groan.

We reach the infirmary and go inside to find Harry looking depressed on a bed. Madam Pomfrey is standing next to him pouring some medicine into a glass. Must be that Skele-Gro stuff Harry had to drink in our second year.

"How are you feeling?" I ask tentatively.

"Awful," he says miserably.

Ron groans. "Harry I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I know it must hurt to re-grow bones--"

"It isn't that," he says. "Madam Pomfrey says I'll have to stay here over Christmas break."

"What?" Ron says, alarmed. He turns to the nurse. "Surely the procedure will be done before that?"

The woman shakes her head immediately. "No, I'm afraid not. Except for the skull, the bones in legs take longer than all others to re-grow. He'll have to be in the hospital for at least five days. I'm sorry."

"But can't he just take the medicine with him and spend his vacation on a bed or a couch?" Ron asks desperately.

Madam Pomfrey shoots him a look of venom at these words. "What kind of ridiculous suggestion is that?" she demands huffily. "Do you know how much damage going on a trip would do this poor boy? He'd probably break his other leg in the process! He's staying here, Weasley--"

"But--"

"I don't want to hear anything else," she snaps. "You would have done well to have just let me do my job instead of trying it out yourself! It's not as simple as people would like to think. . ."

She leaves the room, muttering about her job being underrated and underestimated.

"I'm sorry," Ron moans again. "This is all my fault."

Harry doesn't say anything, obviously feeling some resentment towards Ron for doing this to him. Ron looks away with a guilty expression.

"It's not so bad, Harry," I say, trying to sound convincing. "You always wanted to spend extra time at Hogwarts. . ." I trail off realizing how stupid that sounded.

After several futile attempts to cheer Harry up, Ron and I leave the Hospital Wing, both feeling terrible. "Poor Harry," I say with pity. "This is such a shame."

Ron sighs gloomily. "And it's all my fault," he mutters. "He'll spend his whole vacation thinking about how much he hates me, I bet."

I shake my head. "No, he'll get over it," I say confidently. "Harry knows you didn't do it on purpose. You did it with good intentions. Though, I have to admit, it was foolish of you to try."

He says nothing back, and I take the chance to steal a few glances of him. My insides turn to jelly.

(L)(A)(T)(E)R

I shouldn't, I tell myself.

But I promised myself I would. But no. I should resolve my issues with Harry before I go off trying to define a relationship with Ron. But maybe I can't resolve my issues with Harry until I fix everything with Ron. How am I supposed to focus making a good plan to repair my problem with Harry if Ron's constantly taking the focus off of him? Maybe once I know everything, I'll have nothing else to concentrate on but Harry.

I look at Ron, taking clothes out of his drawers and throwing them messily into his suitcase. I smile and roll my eyes.

Okay. Here I go.

"Ron?" I say nervously.

He looks up from the chaos he's forming on his bed. "Yeah?"

"I. . .need to talk to you," I say, a break in my voice.

He stares, looking nervous. "Okay."

"It's just that," I say, taking out the letter from my work desk, "I found the birthday card you wrote to me. I hadn't read it before."

I sit on the chair at my desk, and he sits on one next to me.

"What about it?" he asks.

I fumble with the piece of paper in my hands as I speak. "It's just that. . .it was really sweet, and I liked it."

He smiles at this. "Well, that was the point," he says warmly.

I take the letter out of the envelope. "But, I. . .don't understand a few things in it, and I just wanted to ask you about them."

He sits next to me, expectantly. Nerves start to overpower me very suddenly. It occurs to me that he'll probably have a very obvious answer to my question, and he'll wonder why in the world I'd be so nervous about asking a question like it.

"It's no big deal really," I say, though my voice shakes slightly. "I just wanted to know what you meant right here," I point to the paragraph in question, "I don't know what you mean by 'What we want.'"

He takes the paper from me and reads the passage. He's quiet for a few moments after his eyes stop moving across the paper. He's breathing a little deeper than he normally would, I notice. My heart leaps.

"I guess I meant that. . .that maybe," he's speaking raspier than usual.

"That maybe what?" I ask, urging him to continue, my stomach twisting.

He sighs.

"That maybe we could never be together," he says, not looking at me.

My heart fills with emotion and starts beating madly. I feel sweat forming quickly all over my body.

"You. . .you want to be with me?" I stammer.

He looks at me wryly. "Of course," he says with a laugh that has a note of hurt in it. "I thought maybe you would've been able to figure that out by now."

I'm speechless.

"I kind of hoped you might feel the same way," he says sounding defeated. "I sometimes thought you did, but. . ."

"I do feel the same way," I say automatically before I get the chance to think about what I'm doing.

He looks at me with shock. "You do?" he asks, quietly.

I nod, unable to keep an enormous smile off my face. This is turning out to be a lot simpler than I imagined. It all seems. . .easy. Why didn't I just tell him before?

He looks at me for a while, happiness slowly starting to show on his features. "So what now?" he asks hesitantly.

I look up at him and for the first time since this conversation began we make eyes contact. That's all it takes. Next thing I'm aware of, Ron leans in and places his lips on mine. I put my arms around his neck and kiss him back. The kiss is sweet and ends too soon.

We stop kissing and look at each other closely. I'm surprised when he wipes a tear off my cheek. When did I start crying? He smiles at me and I kiss him again, deeper this time. Our tongues slide past each other intimately. His lips take my bottom one and he sucks on it.

I put my tongue in his mouth again and pull him closer by the neck. We kiss for a while, enjoying each other's tastes and moaning with pleasure. I pull away from his lips and sit on his lap, then begin to place kisses on his neck. I lick his skin and place pecks everywhere. I enjoy the moments, and relish every kiss I place on him.

He's mine. And I'm his.

No, you're Harry's.

As I place my lips on his again, I hear those words from a voice in the back of my head. My eyes pop open. I pull away breathlessly.

He looks at me, concerned. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

"Harry." I say, trying to catch my breath.

Suddenly, the look of enjoyment is wiped off his face. "Oh. Right." he says, too appreciating the seriousness of the situation.

What do I do? I can't just sit here, looking at him, knowing he wants me, and not prove to him that I want him just as badly. I take a few breaths.

"Are you ok?" he asks me gently.

"No," I say, my voice quivering. What's the right thing to do? It doesn't seem right that I can't show on just how much I love Ron, it just doesn't. It seems almost immoral not to show him. More immoral than being unfaithful to a man I'm not in love with. But he's my best friend, not just my boyfriend. What do I do?

"What do you want to do, Ron?" I ask, handing him some of the responsibility for whatever decision we were about to make.

He studies me for a long time after these words. "I don't know," he says. "Whatever's right."

I bury my head in his shoulder. Here I am; faced with another tremendous decision. The first time I cheated on Harry caused me months of grief, unease, guilt, and negativity. And here I am again, faced with the decision of either backing down or doing it all over again.

Just do it.

The voice speaks to me again. It seems so simple to hear the words in my head: just do it. Why not? The truth is, while I'm aware that this could do irreparable damage, and could put me through an endless amount of days feeling horrible, it doesn't seem to matter right this moment. Right now, I feel that all that sorrow is worth being able to love Ron at least once, and have him know how I feel. It won't be a favor this time. It will be an act of passion.

"I love you," I say, lifting my head from his shoulder and looking him in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. "And I want you."

I see an unmistakable flicker or joy in his eyes. "I love you too," he says gently.

A/N: Cliffhanger. Sorry. Review please.