A/N: The twelfth chapter, finally. Thank you for all your reviews, as always, they are wonderful encouragement. I've changed my name once again, so don't get confused trying to look for me under my old name.

Secrets

Chapter XII: Confrontation

Nothing can describe the dread I feel as I step into the common room, knowing that the scene I'm gonna have to live through a few moments from now is going to be something I'll probably never forget. I'm gonna have to tell Harry that I betrayed him, that I took advantage of our friendship, and that I did it more than once. Not something to look forward to.

Still though, I'm not as nervous or depressed about this as I imagined I would be. Actually, I feel kind of indifferent about it. I mean, I don't want to have to do this and it irks me that I do have to, but at the same time, I just wanna get it over with already. All this crap has been going on for too long. It's been bugging me to the core, and I can't wait to just move on. I just want to know what's gonna happen already. I don't wanna have to wonder and worry anymore. I just can't find it in me to be afraid.

Plus, I'm still too pissed off at Harry to be as nervous as I was before. The anger is still coursing through my body. It isn't just about the game; it's about everything. I mean, does he really think that he's completely innocent in this? Please. He's got another thing coming. I'll admit, what Hermione and I did was wrong, but Harry's got quite a few questions to answer as well. Starting with–

"Ron!" I turn my head towards the dormitory door, to see Harry stepping out from it looking grim and mischievous. He looks pissed off too, but he's holding it in, I can tell. "You're just on time!"

I narrow my eyes slightly and examine him for a few moments. For a guy who's probably just been told that he's been cheated on, he looks barely touched. He doesn't seem too shocked. . .

Well. I guess I was right. He did know. Otherwise he wouldn't look so frickin. . .strange.

"Am I?" I say, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of my tone. A small part of me tells me to watch my anger, but I ignore it.

He nods. "Oh yes," he says. "Hermione and I were just about to start a very interesting conversation."

I feel a small throb of the nerves.

Okay. So even my anger can't overshadow the fact that I am going to have a lot of explaining to do. And a lot of these explanations won't sound that convincing. . .

Maybe I should try to take this more humbly. . .

But, oh. Just look at him! Standing there, looking all superior when he's got just as much to explain to me as I do him. He is not a complete victim, and he knows that. And if he doesn't, well I'll be the first to tell him.

A few seconds tick by.

I roll my eyes and then look at him seriously. "Well then," I say, "I guess the time's finally come to talk about it, hasn't it?"

No use beating around the bush.

He rolls his eyes with an expression of disgust on his face. "Yeah. It has."

We stand in front of each other, staring, giving each other cold looks. The scene fills me with a force of different emotions all at once. For one, I'm feeling exactly the way I'm acting: angry. Who does Harry really think he is? Does he really think that taking away someone's true love is okay? Does he think that he had the right to do that to me just because I'd never opened my mouth? I should have punched him the moment he announced his relationship with Hermione. It would have been completely justifiable. . .

On the other hand though, I'm feeling very saddened by all this. Never did I think that Harry and I would face each other, considering ourselves enemies, or even rivals. Never did I expect to be given such looks of venom from the person who I've considered to be my best friend in the whole world for so many years. It was always him and me on the same side, facing someone else. But now, we've been separated by resentment and anger. It hurts.

We both look over to the doorway, to see Hermione coming out into the common room, the floor creaking as she does so. She locks eyes with me for a moment, but immediately looks away.

She looks so hurt and ashamed that suddenly I feel like a coward for having left her here all alone. Why did we decide that she had to be the one to tell him? I should have been there with her when it happened. I mean, it takes two people to have sex, and if I remember correctly, I was one of them. This was both of our faults and I should have been there behind her from the moment Harry came for their date. I'm such an idiot.

She takes a deep breath and says, "Can we just. . .try to solve this as calmly as possible?"

"Solve?" Harry asks disbelievingly. He lets out an astonished laugh and turns to Hermione. "You think this is going to be solved, Hermione?"

She looks away from him and blinks a couple of times, trying to dry the newly forming tears in her eyes. A feeling of protection starts to creep through my body, and I can feel myself getting more and more annoyed with Harry. I know that later I'll probably regret feeling like this, but right now I don't really give a damn.

"Can't we just explain, Harry?" she asks quietly.

His eyes widen with mocking surprise. "You think I want you to explain?" he asks sarcastically. "Why in the world would I want you to do that?"

"Leave her alone, Harry!" I snap, irritated.

His head turns quickly to face me, and he still has that disgusted and disbelieving expression plastered on his face. He narrows his eyes slightly and shakes his head. "You think you deserve pity, Ron?" he asks.

"Do you think you do?" I half-shout.

"I think I deserve to be given some respect right about now!" he retorts, his cool demeanor breaking for the first time. "After you've betrayed everything we've had, making a fool out of me along the way, I think I deserve that much!"

I'm just about to retort when he Hermione says, "He's right, Ron!"

I look at her, and see that she's giving me a hard look. "We've done wrong," she continues, "and we should explain this rationally."

She emphasizes the last word, letting me know that my behavior is probably making her panic. I sigh. I should act more ashamed. It isn't just my friendship with Harry on the line.

Still. . .I can't bring myself to apologize.

We stop talking for a few moments and just stand, avoiding each other's eyes. The room gets deadly quiet, and an uncomfortable feeling of awkwardness takes over. Hermione catches my eye, but again, looks away quickly.

My face starts to get hot suddenly, and ever so slowly, my conscience is starting to control me. I'm suddenly aware of the fact that I've been caught by Harry of hiding the biggest lie I've ever told. Well. . .the biggest lie I've ever played along with. Slowly, the shame starts to nag me, and I feel myself getting increasingly embarrassed.

I'm suddenly startled as Harry stomps his foot on the floor loudly and impatiently.

"Well?" he practically shouts, seething. "What's the 'explanation'?"

Hermione, looking shaken, swallows loudly and starts to stammer. "Well. . .it started with. . .I didn't think. . . W-wouldn't it be better if we sat down?"

She gestures weakly towards the couches, and I notice her hands are shaking slightly.

"No," says Harry immediately.

She breathes shakily and attempts to open her mouth. She struggles for a while, and I feel more and more protective as her suffering increases. After a while, she still hasn't said anything.

"It's okay, Hermione." I say. "I'll explain–"

"No Ron," she interrupts. "I'm the one that has to start."

I shake my head. "No you're not. We're both guilty, 'Mione, and I–"

"'Mione?" Harry blurts out scathingly. "I don't believe this. . ."

Hermione ignores Harry with difficulty and says, "Yes I am, Ron. I'm the only one that knows everything from the beginning."

She sighs heavily and falls back on the couch. She slumps her shoulders and wipes her eyes. After a complete minute she speaks, "I guess it started last year. . . when you asked me if I wanted to sleep with you."

She pauses and glances at Harry fearfully, who looks slightly taken aback.

"Are you telling me that this affair has been going on since last year?" he asks with a small note of apprehension in his tone.

"It's not an affair," I say, "it's more like–"

"–like what?" demands Harry, cutting me off. He's glaring at me, with a look of someone who is discovering a whole new side of someone they thought they knew plastered on his face.

"It's more like. . .like. . .like. . ." but as I try to think of a different word, I can't seem to find one. What was it exactly? It doesn't seem like an affair to me. . . An affair is when someone goes around with two boyfriends or girlfriends with one of them (or both) not knowing, isn't it? Hermione and I weren't having a totally-decided-upon relationship behind Harry's back; that's specifically what we decided not to do on the train.

What was it then, if not an affair? Were we friends with benefits? I don't think we were. . . I mean, maybe in the beginning, but later we got the "friends" part cleared up and out of the way. But still, in the beginning we weren't doing it just for physical pleasure. There was a reason behind it. A strange one, but a reason nonetheless.

It was more like–

"A favor," says Hermione, finishing both my sentence and thought. She looks at the floor as she says it, and doesn't seem to have the idea of raising her head any time soon.

Harry narrows his eyes again, the anger and disgust growing more and more evident on his face, but signs of confusion also making their appearance. "A favor?" he drawls, "What's that supposed to mean?" he rounds on Hermione, "That you asked him to have a relationship behind my back? Or did he ask you?"

"It wasn't a relationship!" Hermione blurts out. "It was a one-time thing! Well, that's how it was meant to be. . ." she trails off feebly.

I see a flicker of utter betrayal pass through Harry's eyes. He looks from Hermione to me, to Hermione and back again. "What was a 'one time thing'?"

I open my mouth to respond, but Hermione talks first, "Ron and me! The whole thing!" she says, her voice shaky and sounding harassed.

Harry sighs, sounding hassled as well. "Yes, but what exactly was it?" he demands in desperate kind of fashion. "Was it a kiss, a make-out session, or. . . or something more?"

Fear stabs me in the stomach. I glance at Hermione to see her looking frightened as well.

Lord. Harry's this mad and he doesn't even know exactly what kind of cheating it was that Hermione and me did. He thought we were having a relationship behind his back, in which what we probably did the most was just kiss. This is bad.

Hermione's hands and knees are shaking. I can feel myself shaking a bit too, though I don't think it's as noticeable as Hermione.

I take a deep breath. "Harry, how do you know about all this?" I ask, trying to get a few things cleared.

"Through the lockets," Hermione says quietly, answering for him. "I made a mistake with them, Ron."

Oh. So that explains how he doesn't know. I reckoned that if Ginny had told him, maybe she had given him a farfetched theory. Though honestly, the truth is more farfetched.

"Well what was it!" Harry snaps loudly. "Stop stalling and tell me!"

I swallow. I'm really not feeling as confident as I felt when I walked in here. Now I feel terrible and horrified by this whole scenario. The more and more we tell Harry, the more guilty I feel. And we've hardly told him anything at all.

"Harry, it was. . ." Hermione starts to say, but she trails off.

"What?" he asks, and I can hear the fear in his voice again. He doesn't want her to say it.

"It wasn't just kissing," she says in a tiny voice. "It was. . . more. Harry I'm–"

Before she finishes her sentence Harry drops himself into a sofa-chair. He's breathing deeply and quickly. "I don't believe this." he says, sounding truly hurt for the first time. "I figured if you'd betrayed me you wouldn't go too far. Both of you. Guess I was wrong."

Hermione bursts into tears. I feel my own eyes getting a little moist, but I don't dare allow tears to form. I can't believe how badly this is turning out. I look at Harry to find him wearing the world's worst expression. He looks blank, but his lip is quivering. It's the face of someone who's both betrayed and ashamed.

Probably ashamed of our friendship.

"So," he says after a while, "you had sex as a 'favor,' did you?"

We nod, neither of us looking at him.

"And who did who the favor?" he asks, the anger returning to his words.

"I asked Ron to do it," Hermione says with a small sob.

Harry's eyes widen slightly. Obviously, he hadn't expected this. He thought it was me who asked Hermione.

Since it's so fuckin obvious to him that I love her.

"Why?" he asks quietly.

"Because you just weren't the right one, Harry," she says with a sniff, but looking at him in the face. "I didn't feel like you were the person I should lose it to."

He frowns, hurt and not understanding. "Why not?" he asks. "What did I ever do wrong?"

She looks away, pained at these words. "Nothing. I just never fell for you. I never loved you. Not like that."

"Never?" he asks, suddenly indignant. "You were never interested in me romantically?"

She shakes her head.

"Then what the hell did you go out with me for?" he yells, getting up and quickly regaining his angry attitude. "Why would you do that?"

She gapes at him for a few moments, unable to speak.

"Harry," I say quietly, "you're scaring her–"

"I'm scaring her?" he shouts, every word sounding more outraged than the last. "I'm the one who should be terrified! I'm standing here wondering if you two really are who you say you are! I'm standing here asking myself if you two could possibly be impostors–"

"Harry stop!" I yell, feeling fed up. "You'll never get a decent word out of either of us if. . .if. . ."

Suddenly saying "if you're not nice" sounds really stupid, and I shut my mouth feeling like a complete moron.

He waits for a moment, then turns away from me and rounds on Hermione again. "Well are you planning on telling me why you got into a relationship with me or not?" he asks savagely.

She looks away with a scorned expression. "I was just trying to get over Ron. I was trying to fall for someone else."

At these words, Harry looks angrier and more offended than ever. It isn't the kind of anger that makes a person explode, though; it's the kind of anger that leaves a person speechless. He gapes at Hermione, looking stunned and pissed off. He shakes his head, as though trying to see if this is really real or not a dream.

"So basically," he says after a few moments, his voice shaking with rage, "you used me?"

Hermione looks at him desperately and shakes her head. "No!" she exclaims, standing up. "I wasn't using you, I was–"

"Hermione, don't deny it!" Harry blurts out angrily. "The words came out of your mouth, after all!"

"But my intentions weren't those!" she says desperately, her eyes watering again. "I was–"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouts, not letting her finish. "That's what you did, whether you want to admit it or not. You got into a relationship with me with no intention other than to get rid of your feelings for someone else. "

He looks at me and glares. Maybe out of hostility, I don't know.

"So, back to this 'favor.'" Harry says, waving one of his hands and looking up at the ceiling. "You asked Ron to sleep with you because I wasn't 'the one.'"

He turns his head to Hermione, who nods. "And you," he says, turning to me, "agreed."

I nod as well, not really able to come up with a comment.

He gives me a grim smile. "I guess you got tired of being the loyal one, huh?" he asks.

The question hits me right in the stomach, and I immediately feel more helpless than ever. With every second that passes I feel stupider and guiltier than ever. Where did all my confidence go?

Harry sighs, shaking his head to himself. Then he continues with what looks like difficulty, "And this happened right before Christmas, did it?"

I shake my head. "No. It happened last summer." I don't look at his reaction.

"Last summer?" he asks, sounding more betrayed than ever. He looks to Hermione for confirmation.

She nods, wiping a fresh tear off her cheek. "I asked him to do this last spring," she says. "We planned it for the summer. That's why neither of us met up with you."

He's clenching his jaw tighter and tighter, and I can see a vain throbbing on the side of his head. "So why did my locket warn me before Christmas? And the day that you guys came back?"

"We did it again before the holidays," I answer quietly, "but it wasn't planned. It just happened."

He stares at me expressionless, then at Hermione.

She nods. "And the day we came back, Ron kissed me on the train," she says quietly, the sorrow in her voice apparent.

Without saying a word, Harry sits down and puts his chin on his hands, his arms propped on his knees. He rubs his eyes for a while, and for a moment I think he's crying, but then I see that he's just weary.

As I watch him, I feel terrible. Seeing him looking like this is so much harder than I thought it would be, knowing it's half my fault.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Hermione says pleadingly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

He looks at her, seeming angry and hurt and tired and confused all at the same time. "I don't know what you were thinking either."

"I'm sorry, too." I say quietly, knowing it won't do any good.

"So am I," he says, looking straight at me. "I'm sorry. I'm not accepting your apology. Nor yours." he adds to Hermione, who lets a huge shocked sob escape her lips.

"Nothing you've told me is forgivable," he continues, looking at us both, and sounding as hurt as Hermione and I both feel. "You betrayed me. Both of you. And you did it more than once–"

"Oh come on, Harry," I say quietly. "You know you've done wrong too."

He glares at me. "The only wrong I ever did was to get into a relationship with a girl who had no interest in me–"

"–and a girl in whom you knew your best friend was interested, too," I say, not letting him get away with feeling completely innocent.

He narrows his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ron."

"Yes you do," I say, still quietly. "You always knew how I felt about Hermione, and yet you still didn't hesitate to take her away from me."

He scoffs slightly and shakes his head at me. "Ron, you never even admitted to me that you loved Hermione," he says. "Not even to yourself, probably. After a while, I really started to believe in your denial, you know. It's your fault."

"You never believed my denial, Harry!" I say loudly, startling myself and the others. "That's why you always saw me as competition, whether you'll admit it or not! That's why you never liked me talking about Hermione! That's why you got her that locket! You knew."

I stand here, giving Harry a look full of emotion. Though I'm not sure which emotion exactly. Maybe betrayal. Maybe a yearning for answers. Maybe hurt. I don't know.

"I'll admit I knew you guys were off, that's why I did buy her the locket," he says. "I knew something was up. You weren't yourselves. And I'll admit that I sometimes wondered about your feelings for her; I'll admit that there was a period when I was sure I knew how you felt about her, but that still doesn't make what you did okay. It doesn't justify it."

"It makes us even, as far as I'm concerned," I say, now sounding cold and venomous.

Hermione stands up, looking lost and confused, following the argument.

"How do you figure that?" Harry demands, equally as coldly.

"You consciously took someone away from me, knowing how I felt about them. That's betrayal. Then, I took her back, though I doubt that you feel the same way for her as I do," I explain. The whole time I say this, I look Harry straight in the face.

He narrows his eyes even more than they are now. "Ron," he says disbelievingly, "if you felt that way, you could've talked to me about it! You didn't have to betray me! If I did betray you, I wasn't conscious about it! It never crossed my mind! What you did to me, can only be looked upon as betrayal. You knew what you were doing. Hermione gave you a crazy proposal, and you accepted. There's no excuse, and I don't forgive you."

"Harry, please–" Hermione starts to plea, but is cut off by Harry.

"Just stop, Hermione." he says, ashamed. "I'm not going to forgive you, so just do yourself a favor and keep the little dignity you have left to yourself."

He looks at us both, tears now clearly visible in his eyes, and leaves.

(J)(U)(N)(E)

After our confrontation, Harry didn't talk to either us for the rest of the year. He spent all his time alone, not bothering to make new friends. The only person he talked to was Ginny, but very little. Whenever he saw us, he just looked away. If we ever found ourselves alone in the room with him, he would leave. It was, and still is, perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with neither me nor Hermione.

And I guess I can understand. He was right. I should have talked to him. I should have said, "Harry, why did you ask Hermione out? Don't you know how I feel about her?" Sure, the question would have probably caused an angry and awkward row, but I'm positive that it would've been better than the fight we ended up having.

I sigh and throw some of my clothes into my suitcase. I need to finish packing. We leave Hogwarts in two hours. I throw all the contents in my dresser drawers into my suitcase and walk over to my bedside table. I take off the photographs of Harry, Hermione, and I and place them carefully inside my trunk. I look at a photograph of Hermione alone, looking particularly pretty and linger on it.

Hermione and I didn't start a relationship. We couldn't. We can't. Not after the fact that we lost Harry because of what we did. We're still friends, though, just like we promised we would be, but we've had frequents fights. Sometimes we fight over small things and sometimes over important things.

Still, most of them are probably caused by just the hurt and anger that we have to live like this. We make up from them pretty quickly, but they hurt our friendship and are starting to create a big wall between us. At this rate, we'll be acquaintances in a year or two, and after that, we probably won't even keep contact with each other.

It's sad. I put the picture neatly inside my trunk with the others and start to put some other things inside it.

Sometimes it seems unfair that we have to pay a price so big for just one mistake. A mistake that most of the time, doesn't even feel like a mistake.

I sigh again.

I mean, I know that what we did was a terrible thing to do to a wonderful friend, but I really feel like I was tricked and cheated by fate. Why did such a big mistake have to be driven by such a noble feeling as love? Why? Why do I have to feel so bad for something that felt so right? Why do Hermione and I have to lose so much? We lost our best friend, and now we're losing each other.

It just doesn't seem fair. It was all supposed to end right. Harry was supposed to understand. He wasn't supposed to say all the things he said. He was supposed to say, "Nothing can change the fact that the three of us saved the world and that we have the greatest friendship that ever existed! We'll get through this."

The door to the dormitory opens and Hermione walks in, looking saddened, but trying to act cheerful.

"Are you almost finished?" she asks me with a forced smile.

I nod. "Just nearly," I reply with the same false happiness. I look at her and give her back a smile, though I think it looks pained, because she frowns slightly for a millisecond.

"Good," she says, "because we're supposed to give our keys back to McGonnagal as soon as we're sure that we won't have to come back in here."

I nod again but don't say anything. She sits on the edge of her bed, biting her lip and staring down at the floor. I continue to pack my belongings, fully aware that Hermione keeps glancing at me every other minute. We stay like this in silence for about a half hour while I finish gathering up all my belongings from around the dorm. When I close my trunk and suitcase, she speaks.

"I'm really going to miss you after we leave, you know." she says, so quietly, that I almost don't hear her.

I look at her and see that her eyes are brimming with sad tears. My heart starts thudding madly, the aching of it hurting me more than ever.

"I'll miss you too," I say, and I walk over to her and give her the biggest hug I've ever given anyone. We embrace for a while, I'm not sure how long, feeling the warmth and desire that we have for each other. I stroke her hair gently and feel even angrier at fate.

When we get out of here, the chances we'll have of seeing each other often are very slim. Hermione's going to study to be a Healer and I'm going to train to be an Auror. Our schools are far apart, and even though we could easily Apparate to see each other whenever we feel like it, the truth is that both of these careers are no easy challenges.

Studying to be a Healer is going to take up almost all of Hermione's hours. The classes are going to be at crazy times, as they take place in both classrooms and in actual hospitals helping patients. When she's not under official guidance and instruction, she'll be spending time at home, studying on her own.

As for me, I'm going to have to dedicate all my time to training physically and mentally for my job. I'm going to have to take classes too, but I'm also going to have to set my own hours to train myself up. To face different kinds of creatures and battle specific kinds of spells.

Neither of us are going to have time for much of a private life.

We let go finally and just look at each other. I place my forehead on hers and close my eyes. I can feel her breathing right on my face, and again I wonder why I can't be allowed to just kiss her.

"We're going to keep in touch, aren't we?" she asks fearfully, opening her eyes and looking right into mine.

She's obviously worrying as much about our friendship as I am. I smile at her.

"I'll keep in touch with you as long as you make an effort to do the same," I say.

She laughs and smiles. "I will."

"And if you forget," I continue, "I'll just write to you and remind you about it. Or I'll pop into your place and demand an explanation."

We laugh at this and then let go of each other completely. We hear the door to the common room open, and a second later, four house elves enter our dorm to take our things down.

"Pardon," one squeaks. "Are you quite finished packing?"

I nod and tug on Hermione's sleeve. We leave the elves to do their work, then make our way down to Professor McGonnagal's office. We give her our keys and she bids us goodbye, surprisingly in a warm fashion and with tears in her beady eyes.

Later we say bid goodbye to everyone else, as we leave the end-of-term feast, which we missed the beginning of. It really is heart-wrenching to have to say goodbye to this castle, to the halls, to the paintings, to the people (those who we liked and even those who we didn't), to the food, to the customs, the teachers, and everything else, without the person who made this place so great to be in a majority of the time.

Yet as everyone leaves the castle and heads towards the carriages however, I get the shock of my life. As I start to help Hermione into one of the carriages, someone taps me on the back. I turn around, ready to say goodbye to someone I must have forgotten, and gape as I see that it's Harry standing in front of me, looking grim and struggling with something.

Hermione turns around, awaiting for me to mount the carriage when she sees Harry. Her eyes widen at the sight of him, as do mine.

He smiles wryly and says, "I need a word."

A/N: This is such a sad chapter, I almost cried. You guys will be getting the last chapter of this story hopefully sometime before Sunday.